


Kirra's Journey - Episode II - A New Path

by jennyslaw



Series: Kirra's Journey [2]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical comedy, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennyslaw/pseuds/jennyslaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Free of her stepfather, Kirra forges a path of her own. Following Hercules and Salmoneus to Attilas, she meets Iolaus and finds he's not quite what she imagined, nor is the road to Attilas. The village's sadistic Prince has staged a coup, taking rulership from King Aralias. Hercules and Iolaus must stop him, but is Kirra the key to bringing peace back to Attilas?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Hercules the Legendary Journeys and its characters belong to MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. The Kirra's Journey series is a profit-free endeavor to have fun with the characters and pass it on to my readers. The character of Kirra, however, and any other original characters in this series belong solely to me. I do have future episodes completely planned taking Kirra throughout the entire television series. So, any ideas you may have for additional episodes would be great (and subject to author's approval, of course).
> 
> Content: Language is minimal.

 

There was a chill to the morning despite the sun moving higher into the sky. Kirra knelt next to the stream, rubbing some warmth into her arms. She frowned at her bruised reflection in the water. She looked bad. Around the purpling bruise on her left cheek, her skin was pale, nearly colorless. No wonder Hercules blanched at the first sight of her. Thinking back on it left her mortified. She wished she could dip into the stream, let the waters cover her and never come out again.

 _It’s my own fault I look like this,_ she thought.

That wasn’t true and Kirra knew it. Just a little something she picked up living with Hiram. To shift the weight of his wrath from mother, she sometimes shouldered the blame for the misdeeds done around the house. When she did, she wouldn’t have to hear mother pleading with Hiram not to hurt her, or hear the sobbing once the beating was over. Usually, Hiram was tougher on mother. Usually.

But, it was over now, wasn’t it? She didn’t have to hear him anymore, or feel the back of his hand across her face.

Neither would mother.

She buried the warbled image of her bruised cheek to the back of her mind and began to undress. She chanced a look behind before she removed the red and yellow bodice, making sure neither Hercules nor Salmoneus was anywhere near. She left them both asleep by the ashes of the campfire. She remembered waking up lying next to Hercules as if she were his…

 _Shouldn’t think such things,_ she told herself, setting the bodice on a nearby rock and removing her skirts until she was down to her chemise. Hercules had taken care of her. It was rude and unappreciative to entertain such thoughts. She chastised herself by going knee deep into the cold water. It knocked the wind out of her, but it felt good, too.

The stream was deep enough for her to splash water over her legs and arms, her chest and neck, washing away the night and what happened in it, washing away her stepfather’s touch.

Cupping water in her hands and wetting her hair, Kirra wondered how Hercules would deal with her presence here when he awoke. She knew little of him personally, but she had a feeling he might want to take her back home and deal with Hiram himself. She couldn’t go back, not now. There were too many questions she would have to answer, too many consequences to face. It was better to convince Hercules to let her go with him to Attilas. Question was, would he be willing? Would he want her, an annoying girl, to tag along with him on his journey? Would she be a welcome asset or in his way, a lot of trouble?

Yes, there would be questions. Hercules had held off last night only because of her fragile condition. This morning would be a different story. She needed to figure out how to face Hercules like an adult and answer his questions thoughtfully.

Kirra scrubbed at her skin, grimacing at the pain her work-worn and calloused hands caused. She stared off into the distance at nothing, wanting to blank the images in her mind. They kept flashing forward. Hiram’s beefy hands holding her down, his breath the smell of death in her nose, his weight crushing her…

Kirra retched and up came chunks of quail. The bits floated past her legs down the stream to the next village. Another one to write off the list of her favorite foods.

It was useless trying to wash away the filth that clung to her. All the scrubbing in the world couldn’t take the memory away. Kirra scrambled out of the stream and quickly dressed. Sitting on a rock jutting out at the edge of the stream, the tears returned, brought on by her memories of the night before and of what was coming.

 

* * *

 

Hercules awoke to the sound of singing. Not jarring or loudly vocal, but soft and melodious humming. Last time he heard such singing his mother was in the kitchen making breakfast. Salmoneus liked to hum while he cooked, too, but this voice had a feminine tone. Opening his eyes, he saw Kirra.

Humming beautifully, she had rekindled the campfire and was digging into Salmoneus’s pack for cooking utensils. She seemed happier in the light of morning, though the terrible bruises he noticed the night before had settled onto her cheek a dark purple. It would be several days before they faded. She had cleaned herself up, as well, looking much as she did when he met her at the festival. Most of her color had returned. Her hair tied once again in its braid and her dress, though dirty, was as smooth of rumples as she could make it.

Kirra caught sight of him as he sat up and gave him a smile. “Good morning, Hercules.”

“Good morning, Kirra. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, much better,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I think getting some sleep was a big help.” She turned and produced a handful of bird’s eggs. “I collected some fresh eggs in a nest near here. I remember mother and I used to go roosting for these when I was little.” Her face took on a faraway look before she returned to the present. “I thought you might like some.”

“Sounds wonderful. I’m starved.”

“How do you like them cooked?”

“With the yellow runny.”

“Me, too. What about Salmoneus?”

“Ah, let him sleep. He’ll wake up when he smells the food.”

She smiled tentatively at his joke, but Hercules sensed Kirra was more troubled than she wanted to let on. Her movements were stiff and jerky, her words clipped, avoiding prolonged conversation. Behind her cheerfulness, there lurked a burden Hercules couldn’t imagine. As jumpy as she was, he thought better of laying on the questions too soon. He tidied up their camp instead, and freshened himself up at the stream while she finished breakfast.

When he returned sometime later, Salmoneus had joined Kirra by the fire and was breathing in the scrumptious aroma of fried eggs.

“Ah,” Salmoneus said, his eyes closed with an expression akin to bliss. “That smells like it was cooked on Mount Olympus itself.”

Kirra gave a hearty laugh, her worries momentarily abandoned by Salmoneus’s comical display. Hercules laughed himself and took a seat next to them by the fire.

“No, Salmoneus,” he said, “it smells _better._ ”

Kirra said nothing, waving away their compliments.

“Ah!” Salmoneus clapped once and pointed a finger in the air as if to say, _Wait one minute_. From his travel bag, he produced three wooden platters. “It never hurts to come prepared.” He set a platter before each of them.

The smell of food having taken over his senses, Salmoneus didn’t notice the look of concern on Kirra’s face at the sight of the platter, but Hercules did. It was only there a second or two and she hastily concealed her feelings.

When the business of cooking breakfast was complete, she shoveled half of the eggs into Salmoneus’s platter, the other half into the platter before Hercules. They both looked down at her empty one, then up at her. She seemed unaffected by their curiosity, but ready to answer to it.

“Sorry. Guess I’m not hungry this morning.”

“Alright,” Hercules said.

“You two eat and I’ll wash the cooking pan.” She glanced at the curious looks on both of their faces and then got to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Kirra left camp with quick steps.

Fingers full of egg half raised to his mouth, Salmoneus paused. “What do you think that was all about?”

“I don’t know,” Hercules said, quietly worried.

He finished his breakfast, patiently listening to Salmoneus talk of Kirra’s excellent cooking skills, and wondering how long it would take her to return from washing the pan. There was so much unsettled about her, he couldn’t decide how to breach the subject. And how would she react if he did? What happened after he left their house? Whatever it was ate her up inside. Kirra may have had many years to learn how to conceal her emotions, but he was far more intuitive than she might ever know.

Deep in his thoughts, it took him a moment before he registered Salmoneus’s silence. He looked at the salesman and saw the same worry mirrored in his expression.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

He sighed. “I think it’s time I found out.” He held up a hand when Salmoneus rose to follow. “It’s best if it’s only one of us.”

Salmoneus nodded. “You’re probably right. I’m no good at that kinda thing anyway.”

Excusing himself, Hercules left camp, slipping through a bank of trees and bushes to find Kirra kneeling beside the creek, frying pan in hand. The pan was as dry as a bone, never having touched water. She stared not at the pan but through it, her mind far away. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

The guilt of leaving her returned with the force of a mallet. His first thought was to turn and give her privacy, but he chose to keep his place. He had turned away when she needed his help the most. He couldn’t do the same thing now.

“Kirra.”

The sound of his voice brought her back from that place of sadness. In a flash, she dried up the tears and returned her smile to its place like a mask. “Hercules, I didn’t hear you come over.”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course!” she said, standing. “Are you finished eating already?”

It saddened him to see how quick she was to hide her feelings. “Well, there’s some left,” he said. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? That was more than I could eat.”

“Please,” she said with a skeptical, but shaky laugh. “Half a plate of eggs? I doubt that. You should have the appetite of a satyr.”

Hercules laughed. “No, I’m fine. It’s was very good, by the way.”

“Thank you,” she said, her apprehension returning and he hadn’t uttered a word. Kirra brought her attention back to the pan. The mask had dropped. She knew exactly why he came to find her.

 _Well, here goes,_ Hercules thought and took a deep breath. “Kirra … about last night…”

Her stomach knotted and churned. Not again. “Hercules—”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Sorry?”

“For walking away when I should have done something to help you and your mother,” Hercules said. “I should have...”

He started the sentence, but had no idea how he should finish it. What should he have done? From last night to now, it was hard to know what _the right thing_ was.

“It’s alright,” Kirra said. “I understand why you did. I don’t blame you for it.”

Hercules nodded, but her words were not a comfort to him. “There’s still the matter of your Stepfather to—”

“No there isn’t,” she said, her face set.

“Kirra,” he said, taken aback by her matter-of-fact tone. “I cannot stand back and do nothing. After what I saw last night, and from the bruising on your face…” Hercules brushed her bruised cheek with his knuckles and she shied away ever so slightly. “What happened?”

Kirra only shook her head. She wouldn’t look at him.

Hercules didn’t want to guess, but he didn’t want to pressure her either. “I may not have been able to help you last night, Kirra, but let me help you today.”

“No,” she said, her tone stronger than she had intended. She corrected herself and added, “I won’t go back.”

“What do you mean?”

Kirra took a few steps back, as if she thought Hercules might drag her back to the village. “I won’t go back Endor. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I realize you’re afraid, but I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise you that.”

“I know,” she said, her voice wavering. “It’s not only that I’m afraid...”

“Then, what is it? You can tell me.”

“I ... I—” She thought, _Mother made me promise_ , but didn’t say it. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

Hercules stepped closer, extending a placating hand. “Kirra, I don’t understand.”

Kirra backed away again, hugging herself, her heals dipping into the gently lapping stream. The terror of the night before was a wave of water, crashing over her and drowning her.

“ _No!_ Please, Hercules. I can’t go back.”

Hercules stepped away. “Relax. No one is forcing you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Sorry,” she said again. “I’m fine.”

She hated the thought that he might see her as the damsel in distress, or the annoying little girl who used tears to get her way. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Hercules with determination. “I know it doesn’t make sense. Nothing does anymore. But I don’t need you to save me. You said so yourself. It’s time I started being my own hero.”

“Then, what would you like for me to do? Where will you go?”

Kirra went from determined to bashful. “You mentioned something about going to Attilas—”

“Kirra…”

“I promise not to get in the way. Only as far as Attilas, that’s all. Then, I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

“Helping you hasn’t been a bother, Kirra. I just don’t know if…”

“Oh, come on, Hercules!”

Salmoneus pushed his way out of the bushes where he had obviously been eavesdropping, and placed a protective arm about Kirra. It seemed the salesman had grown quite attached to her in a short period of time.

“We can’t leave the poor girl to find her way on her own!”

Hercules gave him a disdainful glare, but otherwise ignored him. “As I was saying … I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. What about your mother? What if she or someone else comes looking for you?”

“She won’t,” Kirra said, thinking of mother thrusting the sack of clothes and travel supplies in her arm and shoving her out the door. “This was her idea. Trust me, Hercules. No one will be looking for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe we aren’t supposed to yet,” Salmoneus said.

It wasn’t Salmoneus that made Hercules begin to change his mind. A sad certainty lived in Kirra’s dark eyes. Whatever had transpired after he left had some terrible finality to it. He could speculate all he wanted, but it would do him no good to ask. Salmoneus was right. As long as Kirra wasn’t ready to talk, they weren’t supposed to understand.

“Well,” he said as if raising a white flag. “I guess if you’re coming along, you’d better be prepared for a long trip. It another day’s journey to Attilas and I’m already late.”

Her smile grew wider with his every word. She beamed through the tears when she said, “Thank you, Hercules.”

Salmoneus slapped him on the arm with glee. “I knew you could do it, big guy!”

But Hercules did not feel so proud of himself. By taking this path, he was not helping her. He was letting her down. You cannot confront your problems if you run from them. However, he didn’t know the whys and wherefores of Kirra’s situations. Just because he was the son of Zeus didn’t mean he had all the answers. Perhaps, in the end, this was for the best.

Against his better judgment, he would take her with him to Attilas. Maybe he could find a caring family who would take care of her. Who knows? If he left this matter to The Fates, Kirra could forge a new path. He couldn’t go wrong in helping to guide her in a new direction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Disclaimer: The character of Kirra is a songwriter. I, however, am not. When Kirra sings, I rely heavily upon songs that inspired the written scene. There are two featured in this episode. Both are songs sung by Enya. The one in this chapter is the English translation of "Deora Ar Mo Chroi," written by Roma Ryan and featured on the album A Day Without Rain. I'll gain no money from the use of these lyrics. They are not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended. YouTube the song when you read the scene and you'll see why it inspired me.

The sun had begun to set off in the distance. Through the branches and brush, it was a beautiful sight and Iolaus paused in his trek to notice it. Deep, golden yellows faded into a rich burnt orange. It melded with the fire red, setting the sky aflame, and turning slowly into a chocolaty brown. Ah, then the gorgeous black of night.

 _It's a shame the gods are such tyrants,_ he lamented. _If the beauty of their creations reflected their personalities, the world might be a better place._

"If IF was a skiff, we'd all take a boat ride," he said and picked up his trek once again.

It wasn't much farther to Attilas, no more than half a night's walk. He was tired. He was hungry. He should stop for the night, chew on the scrap of bread in his pack and get a good night's sleep. But he figured Hercules was probably waiting for him. Why stop? If he kept up his pace, he would make it into Attilas before the moon climbed high in the night sky. And maybe, just maybe, Hercules had a full course meal waiting for him.

_Hey, a guy can wish, right?_

"If wishes were horses, beggars could ride. Heck, if wishes were horses this beggar _would_ ride all the way into Attilas. Of course, if wishes were fishes, I could eat a ton of fish, too." Iolaus laughed at his own comedy. "Better than day old bread."

Nope, he thought, _better_ to keep up a good pace, thought of a good supper, and a good tune to whistle on his lips until he saw Hercules again. What was that tune stuck in his head anyway? He'd been whistling it practically all day. Oh yes, the little tune Carmen sang to him. He hadn't the slightest idea what it was about, nor could he remember the words, only that she sang them flirtatiously with a pair of come-hither eyes. Nice song, but Carmen couldn't sing a lick. No need for her to quit her day job—that of being pretty to look at. At that, Carmen was a professional. Long, dark, wavy hair, emerald green eyes ... and knobby knees, but he could live with that. Other than the bad singing and knees shaped like bumpy logs, Carmen was perfect. Iolaus may not have caught a single fish or rabbit all week long, but his best catch of the week brought a grin to his face.

"Carmen, Carmen," he said, chuckling.

He shuffled along the ever-darkening path, thinking of Carmen and her better attributes when his ears picked up on a sound in the distance. He stopped to silence the crunch of detritus underneath his boots. That's when he heard it. Singing. Only, it wasn't him, and it certainly wasn't Carmen. No, this voice had substance and an eerie beauty. Even the night creatures quieted their chirping and stopped to listen. Her song was sad ... haunting, drawing Iolaus from his path as if it had wrapped a rope around his waist and pulled. The tune in his mind only seconds ago became a distant memory. He had to discover the owner of such a voice.

Iolaus inched farther into the woods, pushing through brush and undergrowth. This could be a dangerous move, about as dangerous and as stupid as going it alone in Ister after the She-Demon. Sure, Hercules had taken care of Echidna's daughter, but ... what if this was another one? Was there another one?

Moving closer, something stopped Iolaus in his tracks. A man's laughter. Not any man, no. Hercules! He was positive. He had the sound of Hercules's baritone implanted in his head better than anybody's.

"Hercules?"

It pushed him further until finally he broke through to a clearing with a pond. Here, the golden hues of the setting sun reflected off the water, dazzling him with a beatific view. But it wasn't the reflecting pond that stopped Iolaus in his tracks for good.

He dare not move, let alone breathe. In the pond, above water and bare to him from the waist up, was a woman. Not a She-Demon luring him to his death as he had imagined, but a young woman singing while she bathed. The hair was once again long, not black and wavy, but blonde and suffused with wet curls. Listening (and watching with a barely concealed appreciation for the vision before him), Iolaus didn't concern himself with the unfamiliar language in which she sang, nor that he couldn't understand a word of it. Her voice was too beautiful for words, and so was the sight of her, glistening wet and reflecting the gorgeous colors of the setting sun.

Iolaus was barely aware of his mouth hanging open. If this were a trap, he'd walk right into it and he knew it, but he couldn't stop himself.

Lying directly in his path (unbeknownst to Iolaus, for his eyes were elsewhere) was a trap he could not have foreseen. He moved forward one final step and the ball of his foot landed on a fallen branch with a deafening crack.

The breaking of the branch was as the falling of a mighty tree, the ensuing sound shattering the silence throughout the known world.

At least, that's how it sounded to Iolaus. He cringed, stuck in the frozen posture of a thief caught red-handed with stolen goods. And he was as guilty. He couldn't have gotten to the shelter of brush behind him in time, for the woman in the pond spun her head around and saw him at the wood's edge. The beautiful singing died in her throat and her eyes grew wider than the setting sun. She looked at him with such horror Iolaus thought she might scream.

She didn't. Not right away. He had time to raise his palms in penance and plead a word of apology he hoped he wouldn't need.

"Uh … sorry?"

 

* * *

 

Twenty-four hours.

Kirra was pretty good at calculating time, and twenty-four hours had passed since the time Hercules came knocking on her stepfather's door. She spent the morning banishing those thoughts. Now, they banged and ranted from the other side of the mental block, threatening to tear it down. She wanted it to be as if none of it had ever happened. If she didn't make the ugly past go for good, she couldn't move forward.

Slipping into cool pond water, Kirra released her held breath. She let the water envelop her, clearing her mind as she cleared her lungs and watched the setting sun display its beautiful array of colors. It had been many long moons since she she'd seen a sunset. Many sunrises, but not a sunset. She always had to be in before dark. A tween's curfew, mother called it. She considered it an insult to one as old as herself.

Kirra swung her ponytail around to rest on her chest and tried to forget the past. Her hair needed a good washing, but without soap, pond water wouldn't do much good. Still, it might feel good to wash the road's dirt from it. She removed the ribbon, letting the length of it cascade over her bare shoulders, and taking another deep breath, she slipped underneath the water. Calm washed over her.

The day turned out better than she thought it would. The fears the morning held slipped away when she set off down the road with Hercules and Salmoneus. They talked of a good many subjects: the places Hercules visited in his travels, the people he met along the way (like Salmoneus) and his many adventures. He didn't answer every one of her burning questions (and she had many, so many she could remember them all), but it helped Kirra forget about Hiram and Endor and the events that took place not long ago.

Except for mother. Mother was always in her thoughts.

This was the perfect end to an almost perfect day. She was safe. Hiram would never touch their lives again.

Rising from the water, the day's worth of dirt washing from her hair and body, the cool water soothing her aching feet, Kirra looked up at the colors fading into the blackness of night and began to sing. She sang a song her mother taught her as a child, a melancholy but beautiful song. Mother used to sing her to sleep with it when she was little. Thinking of her, wondering how she was, the words came back to her clear as the night sky.

 

_How wonderful, from morning to night the sweet voices at my side, and happiness everywhere, without sorrow, joy in my heart forever._

_If I walk away from life, the sun, the moon behind me, I have only the memories of my life, and sad tears in my heart.*_

 

With one ear-shattering crack, the beauty of the night and the song were forever lost. The song died on her lips, and her arms which were once above her head, squeezing water from her hair, went over her breasts. For one horrifying second she saw Hiram at the wood's edge with a knife in his hand, leering.

Before her scream ripped through the night, she understood that it wasn't her stepfather. She caught sight of a purple vest, black leather pants and a head of unruly blonde curls. It was another man, who looked nothing like Hiram, standing there with an expression of what she later would describe as both surprise and anticipation.

But these were fleeting observations. Her mind understood only that she was naked and someone was watching her!

" _Hercules!"_

 

* * *

 

"I feel icky."

It's what Kirra said before leaving camp to find the pond Hercules had noticed earlier in the evening. The way she kept fidgeting—plucking bits of mud from her skirt, dusting her shoulders, spit-polishing the exposed parts of her skin smudged with dirt—it wouldn't have been long before she begged for a bath of some sort (though he didn't know what good the pond would do other than wash the day's dust away).

On the road, she hadn't complained much, but Hercules guess she hadn't faired well. Kirra was a homebody, not a traveler. There were times when she grimaced from the heat, and when they stopped in the shade for a drink or a bite to eat, she would remove her shoes and rub the bottom of her feet. She was accustomed to chores around the house or in the garden, not to the traveler's life.

If it weren't for Kirra, Hercules would have traveled on past nightfall and into Attilas. She wouldn't have said anything as she hadn't most of the day, but the poor girl wouldn't have lasted long. He couldn't let her collapse in exhaustion on the side of the road. He didn't need such attention. They had drawn enough eyes during the day. The travelers they met on the road were more than curious about a young girl traveling with two much older men.

An older couple, trundling by in a well-worn wagon, once stopped to ask Kirra if she were all right. Kirra played it cool. She set the elderly couple's mind at ease, expertly drawing her arm through the crook of Salmoneus's and saying, "Yes, just taking a stroll with my father and my big brother."

Salmoneus had frowned at the "father" comment, but Kirra had banished all expressions of exhaustion with a contented smile. She could do that. She had a smile, given the right conditions, which could potentially mellow his brother Ares. Still and all, Hercules thought it best to avoid the kind of attention their trio created.

Particularly given the overeager attention Salmoneus lavished on the girl. Even now, his gaze continued to follow after the place where she slipped between the trees to "clean up." The salesman's grin hadn't gone away.

"Salmoneus," Hercules said after a time. He didn't like the faraway look in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Salmoneus remained transfixed on the spot where Kirra disappeared.

"Are you alright?"

"Sure."

"Salmoneus, look at me."

"What?" Salmoneus turned reluctantly to face Hercules over their crackling fire only to see a scowl on the man's face.

"You're old enough to be her father."

With his arms crossed, the scowl remained long enough to jog Salmoneus out of his trance. Nevertheless, it took him a second or two to understand what Hercules was driving at.

"Hercules! I'm insulted. I'm only making sure she gets there safely."

His scowl softened. "Then, how come you had one of those big, dopey smiles on your face?"

"Hercules, please. After all that's happened…" Salmoneus pursed his lips. "Kirra is like a daughter to me."

Not able to hold the scowl any longer, a laugh escaped Hercules's lips. He wasn't as gullible as Salmoneus may like to think. The salesman was taken with the girl; perhaps not in a deeply romantic way, of course. Salmoneus already had a lifelong relationship with a fickle _femme fatale_ named Dinar. Yet, Hercules knew a crush when he saw one. He had seen enough in his lifetime. This crush, however, was not of the teenage sort. He crushed over Kirra's ready smile, her deep and hearty laughter, her dry wit and the keen intelligence belying her age.

Hercules could not easily fault his friend. Her qualities appealed to him as well, but at some point in the near future, the dinars would begin to call Salmoneus away and the road would beckon Hercules back to its path. Kirra would be alone. Her winning traits would not be enough to hold them to her side. What would happen to her? This fear Hercules buried deep in the back of his mind, but it far too often threatened to dig itself up. He had to see her settled someplace safe.

"Besides," Salmoneus continued. "The girl is barely twenty. Why would I want to lug around a teenager when there are dinars to be made? The very reason I never got married."

Hercules grinned. Salmoneus proved the point he was trying _not_ to make. His friend pointed a finger at him as if he had some other point to make when, as if on cue, the sound of singing drifted through the air to their camp.

Finger held mid-air, he said, "However…"

"Is that Kirra?"

Hercules thought back to breakfast. Kirra, humming that song, was what woke him. Hearing her sing it aloud, the lilting words echoing off the hillside, he thought he'd never heard anything so beautiful. So beautiful, and yet so sad. It broke his heart to hear it.

"You're darn right it is, and what a voice!" Salmoneus's thoughts, on the other hand, went in a different direction. "By the gods, Hercules..." He licked his lips in his excitement. "This girl is my ticket!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Think of the dinars I could make— _we could make_ , I mean!" Lost in the burgeoning idea, Salmoneus didn't see Hercules's contrary shake of the head. He laughed, giddy as a schoolchild. "Do you have any idea ... with _that_ voice ... oh, the gods have blessed me tonight!"

As he spoke the words, her singing cut short as if someone had wrenched the beautiful sound from her lips. The sudden silence drew Hercules to his feet.

"Do you think she heard me?" Salmoneus said.

Hercules didn't hear him over the wild beating of his heart, his first thought going in the same direction as Kirra's. Hiram had found her! It took the sound of a familiar voice to change his mind.

"Oh, no," he said, dread souring his handsome features. An image popped into his mind of what he thought might be happening at the pond.

" _Hercules!"_

Yep! Exactly as he thought.

Hercules grabbed his blanket off the ground and took off at a brisk run. Salmoneus didn't get a chance to rise to his feet. As he had several minutes before, he stared at the same spot where now Hercules disappeared into the woods.

"What in Tartarus is going on?!"

 


	3. Chapter 3

To Kirra, the road to Attilas wound on and on. Hercules said it would only be a couple more hours. So, why did it seem like days? Maybe it had something to do with _him_. Keeping the beat of her feet in sync with Salmoneus’s, she crossed her arms and stared hard at the back of the man that walked beside Hercules.

She had pictured their morning trek to Attilas as a pleasant venture, while Hercules and Salmoneus expounded upon their adventures together. She had never been this far from home before. Every new smell (the scent of a foreign pine or wild herb) and every new sight (something as mundane as rolling hill) was an experience worth getting excited over. It kept back the bad thoughts.

But last night ruined everything. All she could think of was how mortified she had been ... and what a fool she made of herself. Screaming and throwing rocks ... _Oh gods!_ Wallowing in embarrassment, Kirra winced, wishing the memory away.

“Are you okay?” Salmoneus asked her.

“No,” she told him. In her mind, she heard...

_“Hercules, she’s a crazy woman!”_

She couldn’t get the look on his face out of her head. He had been so angry. The rocks must have made contact a good number of times. Maybe he had a right to be angry ... but darn it, so did she! How dare he spy while she bathed? And Hercules called him a _friend_?

Giving her head a hard shake, Kirra spoke low enough for only Salmoneus to hear. “I can’t believe _that_ is Iolaus!”

His brow wrinkled. “Why?”

The image of him standing there staring, like a kid caught raiding the cookie jar … how embarrassing! She couldn’t help it. With the thought and memory of her stepfather so fresh, she could only react. And when she did, she reacted in self-defense, much as she had with Hiram when he’d ordered her to go home. The rocks she felt beneath her feet on the pond floor became missiles. She threw them as mercilessly as she threw her insults; “pervert” ... “creep”... “slime” … to name a few. She had no control. At least, not until Hercules arrived. He had calmed things down … somewhat.

_The look on his face was one of a father chastising his children. “What is going on?”_

_“He was spying on me!” Kirra yelled and wrapped the blanket Hercules brought tighter around her. Thank the gods she hadn’t been completely naked or her humiliation would have been doubled._

_“Hercules, she’s a crazy woman!” Iolaus said. “I did not—”_

_“_ Crazy? _Are you calling me a liar? I saw you, you pervert!”_

_Anger colored his skin from white to red. “If you call me that again, so help me gods...”_

_“Stop it, both of you!” Hercules brought an end to their argument and he only had to raise his voice a few notches, but the extra ones were brewing. He brought it under control with a heavy sigh. “Kirra, I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. This is Iolaus ... my friend.”_

_She remembered how they’d spoken of him at the festival. Hercules had called him “the best man I know.” How shocked she was to learn this was that man._

_“_ Him? He’s _Iolaus? He’s a creep!”_

_That was the last straw for Iolaus. He took two steps toward her, such anger in his eyes it made Kirra scurry behind Hercules. “Herc, if you don’t shut her up, I will.”_

_Hercules placed a well-intentioned hand to his chest. “And_ you _should be more careful.”_

 _“_ Me? _I’m the one who just got pelted with rocks here!”_

_“And Kirra’s been through worse than that.”_

_That seemed to shut Iolaus up. When he looked at her and noticed the bruise on her face in the fading sunlight, his anger softened._

_Hercules took that as his cue to help mend fences. “Now, everybody calm down and let’s try to get along.”_

The rest of her night had been miserable. They ate their evening meal in silence—a meal of left over quail from lunch and a hunk of bread Iolaus had stowed in his pack. Even Salmoneus held his tongue! Hercules had asked his friend a few questions about a hunting trip, but he’d answered only vaguely. Then, they found a spot near the fire and went to sleep ... except for Kirra. Sleep had been impossible, no matter how tired she had been. The night before, no problem, she had been in the arms of Hercules. Last night, she only had a blanket to keep her warm, and the night sounds were no comfort. She spent most of the night replaying old memories with their horrible images. Any sudden sound startled her. It took some time to finally fall asleep.

With a sigh, Kirra finally answered Salmoneus’s question. “Hercules said Iolaus was the best man he knew.”

“And?”

“He’s not!” Seeing as how Iolaus was only a couple of feet away, Kirra kept her voice down. “How could such a person be the friend of Hercules?”

Salmoneus didn’t know where to put himself, but he didn’t want to put himself in the middle of their spat. Iolaus had a penchant for the fairer sex, as did he, but he never took him for a voyeur. He was sure it was just a misunderstanding.

“Look, I may not know Iolaus as well as I know Hercules, but ... I don’t think Hercules would be friends with someone who got his kicks out of watching women bathe. You know what I mean?”

“Salmoneus, I wasn’t lying when I said he was spying on me. He had to have been there for some time before I saw him.” Just as she said that, Iolaus turned back ever so briefly and looked at her. “Why does he keep looking back here?”

“Maybe because he knows we’re talking about him?”

Mortified, Kirra rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It’s so embarrassing.”

Salmoneus felt for her. He missed the happy girl he met in Endor. Maybe if he took her mind off of things, she might start to feel better. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we? You are not going to believe the million dinar idea I had last night.”

“What?” she asked without much enthusiasm.

With a big smile, Salmoneus said, “Don’t get too excited, just yet. I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

His affectation of enthusiasm forced a smile to her face. “Okay, what is it?”

“You!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you and your voice.” He wrapped a quick arm around her shoulders. “Imagine it, your name up in lights. _‘ Kirra of Endor, the voice of a goddess.’_ I’ll be your manager and we could get you into all the hotspots in Greece. You’ll be a hit! Imagine the crowds that would show up in Athens just to hear you sing.”

The more Salmoneus talked, the more Kirra’s frustration and unhappiness began to ebb. She knew he was full of Centaur droppings. The idea of people lining up just to hear her sing ... what a hoot! She wasn’t _that_ good, but it was a joy listening to Salmoneus say it with such enthusiasm.

“If I didn’t think you were pulling my leg just to make a dinar, I might just be persuaded to believe you, Salmoneus.”

He laughed, but then his face grew stern. “Hey, I’m serious.”

 

* * *

 

Hercules glanced back to see Salmoneus throw an arm around Kirra and announce his plans to make millions of dinars off of her singing. After all the bad things that had happened to the poor girl, it was good to see her smile and laugh again. It seemed Salmoneus had a knack for bringing out her cheerfulness. With a chuckle, Hercules turned back around and shook his head.

“What’s so funny?” Iolaus asked as if he couldn’t care less what the answer was.

“Salmoneus—always a scheme.”

“Yeah,” was Iolaus’ nonchalant response.

Hercules gave his friend a sideways glance. Iolaus wasn’t exactly himself this morning. He seemed pensive, lost in thought. Hercules was certain last night’s incident had a lot to do with his mood. “You’re strangely quiet this morning, Iolaus. Something you want to talk about?”

Iolaus gave him a curious look, one Hercules couldn’t quite read. The reply he got, however, was not what he expected.

“So, what’s in Attilas?”

 _Oh, so he’s going to ignore me now,_ Hercules thought. He looked at Iolaus for a long moment before he replied. “It’s not a what, it’s a who.”

“Then, _who’s_ in Attilas?”

“Breccias.” Maybe the mention of a good friend would clear up his mood.

“Breccias? Fought-with-us-in-the-Peloponnesian-War Breccias?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, I haven’t seen him in ages,” Iolaus said, his thoughts going back to the days when he and Herc were just a couple of kids and the idea of going to war sounded like an adventure. The reality of war, however, was far different.

“Yeah, it’ll be good to see him again.”

“The last time we saw him, he was in Corinth. What’s he doing in Attilas?”

“New wife, new baby. I guess he finally decided to settle down and start a family.”

“Well, good for him. If you’re going to start a family, I guess Attilas is definitely the place to do it.”

Iolaus’s memory of Breccias was a good one. He was a great warrior and an even better man. Breccias had gotten him out of several close calls during the war. It left him tormented, though, from so much death. Iolaus was glad to know he was finally able to find some happiness. There was just one thing bothering him. “I have a question ... two actually.”

“What’s that?”

Iolaus cocked a thumb behind him, not bothering to mask his irritation. “Who in Tartarus is _she_ and why is she coming with us to Attilas?”

Hercules sighed noticeably, but smiled. “I was wondering when you were going to answer my question.”

“I’m serious, Herc. The only reason I’ve kept my mouth shut for as long as I have is because I can tell that you’re fond of her.” The memory of last night had yet to leave him. He was sore where those rocks made contact. “Although, I can’t imagine why...”

“Iolaus,” Hercules said, giving his friend a stern look. “You of all people should know that you don’t judge a scroll by its parchment. You don’t even know Kirra.”

“Oh, I know her,” Iolaus said loud enough to be heard, his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face. “I know she has terrific aim.”

Hercules looked back long enough to see the smile disappear off Kirra’s face. “Like I said, you don’t know Kirra. You don’t know what she’s been through...” When Iolaus’ expression turned to a questioning one, Hercules said, “And now is not the time to discuss it. All you need to know right now is I’m hoping to help her get resettled in Attilas.”

“With _who?_ Who would take her?”

Hercules ignored the snide comment and attempted to answer his first question. “Well, maybe Breccias and his wife need a babysitter. I don’t know, I haven’t completely worked it out yet.”

The last time he saw Breccias, Hercules had to get him out of a scrape with some real bad guys. His memory of war had nearly turned his heart to stone and he had been heading down the wrong path with the wrong group of people. It took Hercules—with Iolaus’s help, of course—to turn him around. He couldn’t image putting him through the stress of having to deal with that girl.

“Poor Breccias.” Iolaus laughed. “Herc, I thought you liked the man. You sure you wanna do that to him?”

It took Iolaus a moment to realize that Hercules had stopped walking along side him. He stopped laughing and turned back to see an irritated scowl on the big guy’s face. “It was just a joke, Herc.” When the scowl didn’t soften, Iolaus reiterated, “I’m kidding!”

Hercules sighed again and nodded. “Right,” he said, unconvinced. “You know what...?”

“What?” Iolaus asked with worry at his friend’s devious smile.

“I have an even greater idea than Salmoneus.” Hercules took one step forward, took Iolaus by the arm and dragged him toward Kirra and Salmoneus.

Kirra glanced nervously at Salmoneus. She had been watching their interaction, and now Hercules was leading his friend in their direction. “What’s Hercules doing?”

Hercules made himself ignore the fear he saw in Kirra. He had to or else he wouldn’t go through with this. It was the only way the two of them could move past their differences.

“Kirra, I don’t think I’ve properly introduced you to Iolaus.”

Kirra kept her tone friendly. Hercules had done too much for her to let her manners loose. Mother had taught her better. “Of course, you have, Hercules. It’s not necessary.”

“No, no, it’s not necessary at all,” Iolaus said, wrenching his arm from Hercules’s grip.

“Well, I think it is,” Hercules demanded, his gaze passing smoothly between the two of them. He meant to have this resolved and he would not take _no_ for an answer. Their expression meant they understood him. “Kirra, this is Iolaus. He’s been my best friend since we were teenagers. In fact, we’re closer than friends. Iolaus is like a brother to me. He’s always been there for me—through the good times and the bad.”

Iolaus started to grin in a humble way, listening to Hercules’ words of praise.

“And Iolaus, _my friend,_ ” he said with emphasis, patting him on the back. “This is Kirra.”

Iolaus turned his eyes to her and Kirra shifted hers away. She didn’t want to be in his presence any more than she wanted to be in the presence of Hiram. Being in Hercules’s presence was a different matter all together. He moved next to her and she waited to feel the warm caress of his hand on her back. While she didn’t get the fulfillment of her silly wish, she did get a smile from him and it was good enough for her.

Hercules continued. “Now, granted, I only met Kirra two days ago in Endor, but I feel as if I know her already. She has a kind heart, and a _beautiful voice_.”

Hercules said the latter with such feeling her heart beat as if she’d galloped a mile. It brought a warmness up to her cheeks she would just as soon not have. How red her face must be.

But, Hercules was apparently not finished. “And she can whip together the best pan of eggs I’ve ever had.”

Salmoneus finished up with a laugh, “Oh, tell me about it. I never smelled anything so good ... or _tasted_ anything so good.” He turned to Kirra with another bright idea. “You know, that’s not a half bad idea either, Kirra. You could sing _and cook!_ Two for the price of one. You sing to your adoring fans ... and then you feed’em! Whattaya think?”

When he finished, his smile was so big, they could see clear to his back teeth. All three of them, however, responded with incredulous stares.

“Anyway...” Hercules said with a shake of his head, then grew serious and placed a hand on both Kirra and Iolaus’s shoulder. “When I look at either of you, I see a friend. Whether you are a new friend or an old one, it makes no difference to me. And I expect my friends to be friends.” Dropping his arms, he passed between them, and then turned to face them once again. “So, apologize, let bygones be bygones ... I don’t care ... just get to know one another before you pass judgment.”

With that, Hercules ushered Salmoneus down the trail, leaving Kirra and Iolaus alone.

Salmoneus glanced back with worrisome eyes. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”

Hercules followed suit. “Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?”

 

* * *

 

Kirra didn’t know how long she looked down at his boots before she finally found the courage to look up at Iolaus. With his sword at his side, a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder, his image spoke of someone who knew how to take care of himself. But, it was the expression on his face that irked her. Though his scornful look had softened some, it was very clear what his feelings were. He disliked her. She never imaged her first meeting with Hercules’s best friend would turn out so badly. Her dream of traveling with Hercules and experiencing some of his adventures was crushed. If _he_ were around it would be a nightmare.

His curt expression cut her to the heart. “You know what? Don’t waste your time.” Kirra walked around and past him.

“No problem, princess,” she heard him say behind her, but Kirra ignored him. This would not work out the way she had hoped at all.

 

* * *

 

Yesterday, the Fates had been kind. The day had been gorgeous and he spent it with a gorgeous woman. She fed him a home cooked meal and gave him a warm bed to sleep in ... until her father realized it and put him out in the barn. But, today...

Today the Fates had it in for him, it seemed. First Nemesis, now those three old hags. What could he have done to anger them? And this girl, despite the sweetness of her voice, had the attitude of a Bacchae ... as well as the temper to go along with it. Since Hercules had dumped him on her, neither had spoken a word to each other.

Hercules and Salmoneus had trekked much farther ahead of them, and every now and then Herc would peek over his shoulder. Iolaus had had enough. He was treating him like a child! If he turned back one more time, he would…

And there he goes. Another peek and this one had another of his devious grins attached. Iolaus gave him a sardonic smile and waved. “That’s right, big guy, just keep on walkin’,” Iolaus said.

Princess gave him a look as if he was crazy. Boy, did she have nerve!

“What?” Iolaus asked her.

“You call yourself a friend of Hercules? You certainly don’t act like one.”

His eyes rolled heavenward. “You don’t know anything about me. Hercules is my best friend, but we do have our off days. Maybe if you weren’t so stuck up there on your high horse, you might be able to see that.”

 _Come on,_ he thought. _Where’s the smart comeback, the witty remark?_ But, it didn’t come. Instead, she looked at him with such hurt it turned his frustration to jelly.

“You can be really mean,” she said and picked up her pace.

She had walked farther down the road away from him when it hit him. He was being a jerk to a scared girl with a dangerous purple bruise on her left cheek. Hercules said she had been through something, but what exactly? Whatever it was, it reflected like a mirror in her sad eyes. He would have called her name, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He stopped and started several times, but all he could think of was Carmen.

“Could you stop for a minute?”

She ignored him, the plop of her retreating sandals sounding like a hammer and chisel to his pride. Iolaus grumbled under his breath, beat a hasty step and got in front of her. “Hey...whatever your name is...would you stop!”

Her frame went rigid and she stopped dead in the middle of the trail. Iolaus could have sworn he saw daggers in those dark eyes. “My _name_ is _Kirra_.”

Iolaus held up placating hands. “Okay ... Kirra.”

She crossed her arms in defiance, as though whatever he had to say was preparatory to a defense. Iolaus had better choose his words carefully.

“Look, Hercules is right. This is ridiculous. Can’t we at least _try_ to get along?”

“You don’t exactly make it easy.”

With a sigh, Iolaus said, “I realize that, but you can hardly blame me, can you?” Iolaus grabbed at his vest and pointed to his collarbone. “I’ve got bruises from where you hit me with those rocks. I’ve got one on my thigh, too. On my back, on my—nevermind—the point is ... if we’re going to get along, we have to put this behind us.”

The sternness of her features and the rigid set of her back told him _getting along_ wasn’t going to be easy.

“If you can admit what you did, I’ll give it a try.”

“Aw!” Iolaus threw up his hands and slapped them back down on his thighs. “Look, I told you already—!”

He would have continued with his defense, but the look on her face killed the words in his throat. It wasn’t anger or disbelief he saw, or even irritation, for that matter. No, her eyes were wide with terror, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking behind him. Had he not been distracted with proving his innocence, he would have heard the pounding of feet behind him. Better yet, he would have seen their wearers long before he heard them.

From the look on Kirra’s face, it wasn’t Hercules and Salmoneus.

 

* * *

 

Her expression probably saved both their necks, though she wouldn’t readily admit. Not for a while.

Iolaus was about to go into another one of his lame excuses when she saw them. Two guys—no, strike that—two _huge_ guys running at them from around the bend in the road. It couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds for them to reach her and Iolaus, but the action seemed to have slowed to a crawl as if in a dream. The body armor and the sunlight reflecting from their drawn swords were terrifying enough, but the murderous look reflecting in their eyes made her blood run cold. They weren’t coming to give them a warm welcome. They were out for blood.

The dreamlike sensation remained. She watched Iolaus turn toward the two burly men headed their way. He shucked off his bow and quiver. It hit the dirt road with a SMACK! The sword twanged from his scabbard. He held an open palm at her.

“Stay behind me!”

Kirra had no intentions of moving.

From the sidelines, she watched Iolaus face the two men. Their swords were drawn. They bored down on him with all their might. Surely, they would kill him. He couldn’t take them both on at once! Whatever she thought of him now or in the future, she didn’t want to see him dead. She reserved that fate for only one person.

In the seconds before their swords met, Kirra screamed and averted her eyes. She would be next. She expected a cry of pain, a spurt of blood and when none came, she managed a peek. Iolaus had met both swords. She couldn’t believe it. She watched him drive them both back with what must have taken an enormous amount of strength.

“Now, now, guys, let’s play nice,” Iolaus said with a crafty smile. “One at a time.”

The soldiers looked at each other, skeptical of the little man’s chances, then came at Iolaus again. One of the two met him first and their swords clashed in the morning sun. With ease, Iolaus relieved the brute of his sword using a move that must have taken him ages to perfect. Next, his foot made contact with the other’s face, knocking him to the ground. And since the other guy was standing his ground, Iolaus threw him a punch to the jaw for good measure. Of course, once down, Iolaus’s face contorted in pain. He shook his right hand as if he could shake out the pain.

Kirra could only imagine how her expression read. She caught her breath. “Are—are you okay?”

Iolaus nodded. “Man, he’s got a jaw like a rock!”

_“Iolaus!”_

They turned to see Hercules running up the path with Salmoneus following. He stopped when he saw the two soldiers down and out on the ground.

“Sorry, Herc, but you missed the party,” Iolaus said with a laugh.

“I wish,” he said, taking heavy breaths. “I just had my own party farther up the trail. I was coming to help you, but it looks like you didn’t need my help after all.”

“Who, _me?_ What are you talking about? That was a piece of cake!”

Kirra did her best to breathe, but no air came. It was shock, pure and simple, but if she were to gauge her well-being based on the reaction of Hercules and Salmoneus, she might have concluded the brute’s sword met its mark after all. The half-god and the salesman rushed to her side, brushing the hair from her face and taking hold of her arm to steady her.

“Are you alright, Kirra?” Hercules asked.

Kirra caught sight of Iolaus. His lip had curled up in disgust.

“Is there something you two haven’t told me?” Iolaus asked. “What? Is she the Princess of Attilas or something?”

“It’s a little something called compassion,” Salmoneus said. “Apparently, you’ve never heard of it before.” All it took was a frown and a step forward from Iolaus and Salmoneus quickly changed his tune. “Or maybe you have,” he said with a nervous laugh and stepped behind Kirra.

“Iolaus,” came Hercules’ calm voice of reason.

“Sorry, Herc,” Iolaus said in annoyance. “But, you two are acting like she’s dying. Hello! I was right here! They barely even looked at her. She’s fine!”

Now that her heart had begun to return to normal, Kirra began to feel stupid. Why had she frozen? Even if Iolaus couldn’t have been able to take care of those two, Hercules surely would have been around the corner faster than a speeding arrow. She had been perfectly safe. Now, the two were acting as if a sword had pierced her gullet, and ‘short stuff’ thought it was a ploy for attention. Annoyed, she shrugged out of Hercules’s gentle grasp.

“Really, I’m okay. I’m just a little freaked out...” And with an evil eye at Iolaus, she added, _“That’s all.”_

He smirked at her, but said nothing.

“Well, at least, we’re all okay,” Hercules said.

“For now,” Iolaus retorted with concern. “Where there’re two deadbeats, there’s bound to be more.”

“More?” questioned Salmoneus in fear. “Who said anything about more?”

Hercules looked around, his eyes scanning the woods around them. Kirra watched the way his eyes seemed to pierce through the trees. She wondered what other abilities his being a half-god afforded him besides strength. Could he see through the darkness, hear sounds that others couldn’t hear, sense things that others couldn’t sense?

“Sorry, Salmoneus,” he said. “But, Iolaus is right. Running into these guys was no coincidence.”

_“It wasn’t?”_

“No,” Iolaus answered for him. “Seems someone doesn’t want us in Attilas.”

“Okay, wait,” Kirra said in confusion. “Why would someone _not_ want Hercules in Attilas?” _He’s Hercules, son of Zeus,_ she thought. _He’s the biggest hero in the known world._

“That’s a good question, Kirra.” Hercules smiled and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “And it’s one we’re going to answer when we get to Attilas.”

“What? You mean, we’re actually going to go?”

Iolaus gave a groan of contempt. “Uh, that’s the _only_ way to find out why they don’t want us there.”

With a sigh, she looked away from Iolaus and turned her curiosity to Hercules only have her fears and Iolaus’s words confirmed. She gaped at them. “That’s just stupid.”

Salmoneus pointed in her direction. “I’m with her.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was hard for Kirra to believe that in all her seventeen years she had never left her home village of Endor before. So, as they passed under a large stone archway with soldiers in decorative armor guarding the open gates, Kirra’s mouth hung open in awe and wonder. Her first visit to a neighboring city was a grand one indeed. Everything about Attilas was rich and luxurious, more than anything she had ever seen. From the local’s dress, to the shops and food markets lining the busy streets. The local tavern, The Grey Wizard, even with so drab a name had an air of opulence about it. And the colors—exotic purples and dazzling reds and brilliant blues—were a shock to her system. She turned this way and that, taking it all in, the beautiful colors and the wonderful smells.

Hercules, walking at her side, laughed at her reaction. “Not exactly what you’re used to is it?”

“No ... it’s so much more,” Kirra said, marveling over her surroundings. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, Hercules. It’s beautiful!”

“Yeah, I guess it’s got a lot of character,” he said with a smile. To Hercules, it wasn’t much as far as Kingdoms go. He’d seen grander and far more beautiful cities than to be impressed with Attilas. But, this must have been like visiting Athens to Kirra. Her reaction to this place brought out more of the girl he had met in Endor, eyes wide with wonder and excitement, a happy smile on her face.

For Salmoneus, it was the opposite. He couldn’t help but be consumed with worry. Sure, he enjoyed seeing Kirra smile again. That wasn’t the problem. His concern was for his neck and making sure it stayed in its proper place.

“Uh, Hercules, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, couldn’t we have snuck in from the back? No one would be the wiser. You could meet your friend, find out what’s going on...”

“Maybe ... but sneaking in through the back is kinda predictable, don’t you think?” Hercules clapped a reassuring hand on Salmoneus’s back.

“Who cares?” he returned with a skeptical glance at the big guy. “My neck is on the line here.”

“I don’t know about you, Salmoneus, but I like to keep my enemies on their toes. It’s time people start expecting the unexpected from me.”

Iolaus, who had been walking ahead of them, started to laugh. “That’s a good one, Herc!”

“Go ahead, you guys ... laugh. When your heads are on a pike and I’m in Thrace having the time of my life, I’ll be having the last laugh.”

“No one’s head is going to end up on a pike, Salmoneus,” Hercules stated with confidence. Yet, his eyes were on Kirra, hoping to stave off any overreactions due to Salmoneus’s worrisome remarks. Smiling back at him, Kirra hoped to convey that she had no such fears. How could she? She was standing next to Hercules!

Glancing back, Iolaus added, “Yeah, don’t be such a chicken.”

“Hey, chickens are smart animals. They know when to run.”

“Salmoneus, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Hercules said impatiently. But, he had an idea that might send all his worrying away. Pointing to a spot on the other side of the street, Hercules asked, “Besides, isn’t that a toga shop?”

“What? Where?” His eyes darted to a bustling shop full of color and pizzazz. People walked in, but did not walk out empty handed. There was a lot of business going on in that place.

Salmoneus’s eyes grew wide and Iolaus laughed quietly. She quickly discerned that either this was some kind of bad joke or Hercules was trying desperately to distract Salmoneus so he wouldn’t worry so much. The later turned out to be so.

“I can’t believe it,” Salmoneus said indignantly. “They stole my idea!” Turning to the three of them, he said, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to catch up with you guys later. A business man’s got to do what a business man’s got to do.”

Putting on a serious face, Hercules said, “We understand completely, Salmoneus.” They shook hands and Salmoneus left to check out the shop.

“Wow, is he always that gullible?” Kirra asked, watching him as he marched into the shop.

“Yep,” Hercules said at her left.

At her right, Iolaus gave a vigorous nod. “Let’s hurry up and find Breccias before Salmoneus realizes you were just pulling his tassels.”

“Right.”

 

* * *

 

Kirra followed Hercules and Iolaus around town as they asked about their friend Breccias. She didn’t know much about the man, but maybe they felt he was the reason they were attacked on the road into town. She couldn’t understand why and the questions she asked didn’t reveal much of the answers she wanted. They were so intent on finding him that most of her questions fell on deaf ears. It didn’t dawn on her how annoying she had become until Iolaus chose to separate from them and ask around on his own, saying all her questions were giving him a headache. She decided from then on out to quiet down and follow along instead.

Sadly, though, it seemed as if no one in town even knew who the man named Breccias was. Hercules must have asked a million times: “I’m looking for a man named Breccias. He settled here in Attilas recently. Would you happen to know where he lives?” Every time, he would get a shake of the head, and a couple of times people frowned at him and walked away. Kirra didn’t get it.

Smack in the middle of town, Hercules stopped, sighed and looked around at the people. He looked irritated and worried; the expression on his face told Kirra that their silence angered him. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“What do you think? Maybe he doesn’t live here anymore?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Kirra.”

“Herc!” Iolaus came walking towards them.

“Any luck?” Hercules asked.

“No. It was weird. People either acted like I was crazy or they seemed afraid to answer me,” Iolaus said, tapping off the points with his fingers.

Hercules nodded. “Same here,” he said, his face creasing with worry.

Kirra watched them, her eyes jumping between the two of them as they conversed. Yet, she was paying attention. Inspired, Kirra jumped in. “Maybe something has happened to him and the people are afraid the same thing might happen to them.”

Hercules and Iolaus shared a glance. Both of them already had the thought in mind, but it wasn’t one they wanted to entertain.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Hercules said.

“Really?” She grinned from ear to ear, excited to feel a part of the team.

Iolaus was so busy rolling his eyes at the silly girl that he didn’t notice the old man passing behind him until he bumped into his back. He turned in time keep him from falling face first onto the cobbled road.

“I’m sorry, young man,” the old man said, and it was only then that they saw the state of the man’s eyes. He could hardly see. “I should watch where I’m going.”

“No, it’s my fault. She was irritating me,” Iolaus said with a glance in Kirra’s direction.

She had bent to pick up the old man’s walking stick when she heard him. If he was being funny, she didn’t appreciate his brand of humor. Kirra held the stick in her hands like a weapon, ready to deal a blow if the mood struck her, but Hercules grabbed the hand that held the stick and brought it down at her side. This was one time she wished Hercules hadn’t been to the rescue.

Iolaus ignored them. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the old man said rather loudly, and then without any warning, he moved in closer. His voice dropped several octaves and he spoke in hushed tones. “Are you the ones looking for Breccias?”

Hercules answered in the same fashion. “Yes, we are. Do you know where he is?”

Once again, his voice returned to its loud conversational manner. “I won’t take no for an answer. Let me show you my hospitality, friends. My home is near here.”

Hercules and Iolaus shared a glance again, understanding that the old man intended to take them to Breccias. They could only hope he wasn’t a little soft in the head.

“Ok,” Hercules said. “Lead the way.”

Confused, Kirra stayed in place as they moved on, wondering what had transpired. There wasn’t enough to figure it all out. They were leaving her behind, and she still had hold of the old man’s walking stick. She skipped forward. “You’re forgetting your stick, sir.”

“Thank you very much, dear,” the old man said as Kirra handed him the stick. The look on his face changed when he got a better look at her. It would appear that his vision wasn’t that bad. “What happened to your eye, sweetheart?”

He asked with such concern that Kirra almost didn’t know how to respond. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hercules shuffle on his feet uncomfortably. She thought he might actually venture an answer for her, but if he were going to, she never gave him the chance. Years of instinct took over. Kirra answered without missing a beat.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Stupid ol’ me. Wasn’t watching where I was going and ... I sort of ran into a tree.” Kirra said it as sheepishly as she could, adding a hint of embarrassment.

The old man offered her a smile as sweet as honey and took one of her hands in his. “Don’t feel bad,” he whispered. “I do that sort of thing all the time.” He shared a laugh with Kirra and placed her hand at the crook of his elbow. “How about we forget the stick and you can help an old man to keep steady on his feet?”

“Okay,” she said, taking his arm without compunction. She didn’t know this man, but Kirra already liked him.

Hercules watched this play out, feeling sad for Kirra that she needed to blame herself for the wrongs that her stepfather committed against her. Iolaus may know nothing of Kirra’s past, but Hercules could tell by the look on his face even he didn’t believe that story.

The old man started to lead them out of the bustling city streets of Attilas. “By the way, my name is Penneus.”

The three of them offered their names in turn. At the name “Hercules,” the old man stopped in his tracks and looked at the tall man in the yellow shirt. Hercules cringed under the old man’s inquisitive gaze. Surely, Penneus knew Breccias was a friend of his, but perhaps he never thought to meet the son of Zeus.

“It’s nice to meet you, Penneus,” Hercules said, hoping to get passed the awkward moment.

 _“You’re Hercules?”_ came the oft-asked question.

With a pat on the man’s arm, Kirra said, “It really is him. It’s okay, though, I didn’t believe it at first, either.”

Hercules laughed and shook his head. He didn’t think he would enjoy having Kirra tag along with them, but somehow she made the day seem brighter, despite the situation. Iolaus didn’t share his sentiments, of course. After their terrible introduction last night, it would take much longer than a day before the two could become comfortable with each other. The most important thing would be to make sure she stayed safe. If things turned bad here, Attilas might not be the best place to leave her.

 

* * *

 

Penneus led them through the city and back into the forest. While Kirra kept the old man entertained with endless questions, Hercules and Iolaus kept their eyes peeled to the road in front and behind them. Penneus seemed trustworthy, but what if this was a ruse to lead them into a trap? It seemed unlikely, but Hercules knew it was best never to let your guard down.

Kirra, however, had no such thoughts. She truly liked Penneus and she prided herself on being a good judge of character. Penneus was a kind soul with a wealth of stories to tell her of the history of Attilas. It got its beginnings many centuries ago when one man, tired of the tyranny of the rulers of his hometown, vowed to create a society where all people could live in peace and freedom. It grew slowly over many, many years, and went through many rules, some good, and some bad.

“It took some time for Attilas to become the great city it is today,” Penneus said.

The Kings of Attilas, he said, were chosen not by birthright, but by their willingness to uphold the values of its humble first King. It was a great story, Kirra thought, but not exactly plausible. Her first hand experience with most men impressed upon her that they were nasty, vulgar and far from humble. The only man she ever met with a sense of humility was Hercules. Besides, the story’s implausibility came from the fact that Penneus seemed to be leaving something out.

“How much farther, Penneus?” Hercules asked him from behind.

“Just over this ridge and we’re almost there.”

True to his word, as soon as they cleared the ridge, Penneus was pointing to a small cave opening a couple of yards ahead. “Right this way.”

“Wait a minute,” Hercules said, laying a cautious hand on the old man’s shoulder. Kirra turned a curious expression to Hercules. She couldn’t believe he was serious. Could he be expecting some dire event to befall them all? Turning to Iolaus, she saw the same.

 _This doesn’t make any sense,_ Kirra thought. “What’s wrong, Hercules?” she voiced openly.

But Hercules didn’t answer. His eyes were on Penneus. He wasn’t ready to walk headlong into the unknown without knowing what they were in for first. This strange old man “accidentally” bumped into them out of the blue, and now he’s supposedly leading them to Breccias. Whether Penneus’ _run-in_ with them was coincidence or not, something didn’t feel right. Hercules was growing more suspicious by the minute.

“What’s in the cave?” Hercules asked him.

Penneus faced Hercules, confounded. “I thought you understood I was taking you to see Breccias.”

Iolaus stood with his hands resting on the hilt of his sword as it hung at his waist, his calm demeanor deceptive. If there was the possibility of another fight, Iolaus was ready. “So, Breccias is in that cave,” he said.

“Yes, he is,” Penneus responded, his voice going an octave higher. He seemed anxious. “I was taking you to see him.”

By the look on the old man’s face, Hercules began to realize that there was no danger here. It seemed that he meant everything he said. If Breccias truly was in the cave, then he would need to rephrase Iolaus’ question. “Maybe the question we should be asking here is: _why_ is Breccias in that cave?”

Penneus looked uncomfortable. “Well, I was going to let him tell you, but ... he’s in hiding.”

“In hiding?” This time Iolaus’ question was honestly meant. His and Hercules’s suspicions were beginning to wane.

“Yes, from Prince Pervia. The Prince has ordered that Breccias be arrested.”

“Arrested for what?” Hercules asked. “What did he do?”

“That’s the thing I don’t feel comfortable telling you,” Penneus answered with his head lowered in shame. “It should be Breccias’ place to say such things.”

Kirra felt in Penneus the emotions that had been jostling inside of her since she left Endor. Shame—how many times had she wanted to do that very thing? Every time Hercules or Salmoneus said a kind word to her, every time Iolaus rolled his eyes or sighed because she was annoying him ... every time Hercules had to correct her attitude ... she felt like lowering her head in shame. True, Hercules and the others were not the ones who made her feel shame. That was Hiram’s doing. The constant belittling and the beatings over the years had lowered the sense of self-worth mother and father had instilled in her when she was young. It was there, but hidden, almost obscured from view. Now Kirra had to fight to build it back to the level it had been before she and mother ever met Hiram. She didn’t know what caused those feelings in Penneus, but she felt for him.

Hercules had come to a decision after seeing Penneus’ reaction. He knew he had to trust the old man, and the only way to do so was to follow him blindly into the cave. However, that didn’t mean he had to put anyone else at risk.

“Iolaus.”

“Yeah.” Iolaus understood that Hercules had assessed the situation and had already formulated a plan. Whatever it was, he would comply with Hercules’s decision.

“I need you to stay here with Kirra while Penneus and I go in.”

Except for that. “Oh, no,” he said with nervous smile and a shake of the head. “How about _you_ stay here and Penneus and _I_ will go in?”

His words stung like hundreds of bees. They were, in his own sweet way, directed at her, but years of being told by Hiram to “shut up” had loosed a freedom in Kirra she had not known in a long time. The old adage ‘loose lips sink ships’ was nothing compared to the armada she was about to put at the bottom of the ocean ... beginning with Iolaus.

“What’s the matter, little man? You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Iolaus’ reaction wasn’t much better than Kirra’s, and Hercules knew how angry he could get when people referred to him as ‘little’. All it took was one step in the right direction and he stood in front of his friend. The two could not make any kind of eye contact.

“Iolaus, it’s just until I can be sure there’s no danger. As soon as it’s clear, the two of you can come in.”

Iolaus sighed irritably, thinking Hercules might change his mind if he stood his ground, but that wasn’t going to happen. His buddy’s face was set and that meant no-go. What did Hercules think he was—a sucker for punishment? No, he was Hercules’ friend ... who did anything he asked of him.

“All right.”

The answer came begrudgingly, but Hercules smiled and patted his friend on the arm. “Thanks, Iolaus.”

“But, I am _not_ a baby sitter, Herc,” he said quietly so Kirra couldn’t hear him. “Just don’t forget that ... for next time.”

“Duly noted,” he said with a laugh. “I should only be a minute or two. You know,” Hercules added as Penneus led him away, “while I’m gone, perhaps the two of you can learn to act like adults towards each other instead of children.” He said the later with a smile on his face, and then he turned and led Penneus toward the cave.

For a moment, Iolaus could only stare at his friend as he dwindled into the distance. Hercules sure knew how to put him in his place when he wanted to. “Thanks a lot, Herc.” That was all he needed—to lose face in front of this girl.

“You know, he was talking about you, right?” Kirra said spitefully, her arms crossed over her chest and her face turned away from him.

“Really?” I should’ve known better than to ask, Iolaus thought as soon as the word came out of his mouth.

“Yes, because you’re the only one acting like a child,” she said quite childishly. Then she added under her breath, “And a pervert.”

Iolaus heard her, though. She thought she could goad him into a reaction … and it was working. He could feel the anger rise from within him, but he forced it back down. “You know what? I’m not even going to fall for it. _I’m_ going to be the adult here.”

“Oh, please.”

“Uh, excuse me, but how old are you? You can’t be any older than eighteen or nineteen.”

“Wrong.”

“Whatever...the point is, I’m older than you—“

“Way older.”

Iolaus was about to give up. She seemed to have a reply to every word he spoke. As a test, he added, “...and wiser.” He didn’t have to wait long.

“Ha!”

Iolaus began to laugh softly, shaking his head. Oh, how much of himself he saw in this girl ... especially when he was about her age. He had been a smart mouth, wise cracking kid. “And it would seem we’re more alike than either of us want to admit to.”

Kirra half turned, just barely meeting Iolaus’s eyes. He couldn’t possibly have said what she thought he just said. “You _can’t_ be serious.”

“Yeah, actually, I am,” Iolaus said, his expression belying the confidence in his words. “It would seem both of us have difficulty knowing when to shut up.”

Regrettably, Kirra was forced to concede to that. Her mouth had always gotten her into trouble. She was either asking too many questions or talking when it was best to keep her mouth shut. Both had been reasons to incur Hiram’s wrath in the past. Iolaus’s words had struck home. Kirra could do nothing else but acknowledge it.

“I guess you’re right. Hiram must have been right, too.”

It surprised him to hear her agree, but the mention of an unfamiliar name piqued his curiosity. “Who’s Hiram?”

“The man my mother’s married to,” Kirra said insipidly.

Her bland tone of voice piqued his curiosity even more. There was a lot about this girl he didn’t know. The question as to why she was traveling with them had yet to be answered. “I take it he’s your stepfather,” Iolaus stated, clarifying her play on words.

“No,” Kirra said in a matter of fact way. “He’s just the man my mother’s married to.”

“Oh.” He could think of nothing else to say. Kirra clearly despised the man. It made Iolaus wonder about … before he could get too deep in thought, Kirra spoke.

“And the one who gave me this black eye.”

It was too easy to say, as if she were talking about someone else. Sometimes Kirra imagined herself staring through a window and watching as Hiram hammered his fist into her or her mother. Sometimes, when she did that, the pain of it ... even the memory of it ... was not so bad.

“Ah,” Iolaus said. He didn’t know the full story, but the picture was becoming clearer. He knew what it was like to have a jerk for a father and he felt for her. “I had a feeling that ‘walking-into-a-tree’ story was kinda made up.”

“Yes, sort of.”

She faced away from him. Was it embarrassment? Shame? Trepidation at his reaction? Iolaus couldn’t tell, but something about her earlier comment confused him. “I’m curious. What exactly could a jerk like that have been ‘right’ about?”

Kirra met his eyes for the first time since the beginning of their conversation. She hadn’t really thought how the comment would sound to someone else. “He always said I talked too much. He called me a she-demon.”

Iolaus wanted to laugh, but he bit his lower lip to keep himself in check. Sadly, he had thought the same thing the night before. “You know, I actually met the She-Demon.”

“Yes, I know the story.”

She had wanted to add that she’d written a song about Hercules’s victory over it, but decided not to at the last moment. Not only was she not in the mood to be ridiculed for her admiration of Hercules, but she remembered her scroll of songs had been lost somewhere in the melee of that night in Endor. Her heart sank knowing she would probably never see it again.

“Kirra, I can promise you,” Iolaus told her with a smile in her direction for the first time. “ _You_ are not the She-Demon. She was ... well, she looked like a normal woman ... except from the waist down. She had this long, green tail like a snake.”

Kirra’s expression changed from sadness to curiosity. All the stories she had heard about Hercules and all his heroic actions were just that—stories. To get the chance to hear those stories told first hand was exciting. “Really?”

Iolaus nodded.

“Was she as beautiful as the stories say?”

“And then some. That’s how she lured men into her lair.”

“Hmm. I always wondered what she looked like.”

“She used the tail to turn men into stone. All it took was one quick snap and—”

“Isn’t that what happened to you?” she asked pointedly.

Iolaus stared at her, a look of disdain in his eyes. Then, he asked, “You know what I don’t get?”

Kirra regretted asking the question. She cringed, knowing there was no telling what would come out of his mouth next. “What?”

“How Hiram could call you a she-demon after hearing you sing.”

Again, Kirra felt forced to avert her eyes and lower her head. She might have been surprised at his attempt at kindness, were it not for his question. It made her think. The answer was simple, but she hesitated in giving it, because her understanding of it had only just become clear.

“Because I never sang for him,” she said, her voice soft as the breeze. “Someone like him doesn’t deserve to hear the birds singing.”

Iolaus winced at the harshness in her words. He couldn’t let her hold to the sadness he saw on her face.

“That’s my point,” he said, taking on (as best as he could) the voice of the bard. “You see, I know the She-Demon’s father and I don’t care what Typhon said, there’s no way she could sing. Not with that screeching voice! But, you...” He remembered well what had lured him from the road—the sound of her voice. It had been haunting, yet beautiful. In fact, Iolaus couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard a singing voice so beautiful. It seemed to him it should stifle anyone’s rage. “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say here is maybe if he heard you sing ... he wouldn’t have been such a jerk.”

“I doubt it,” Kirra said unemotionally, looking down at the blades of grass that crept up around Iolaus’s boots.

“You never know—“

Bluntly, Kirra cut him off. “No, I know.” It was a nice thought, but that was as far as it went. Nice thoughts didn’t change the truth. “Trust me.”

Besides, she never could force one note from her throat in Hiram’s presence. Kirra sang when she was happy or when something moved her. An important event in her life or in the life of someone she cared for would cause her to bring quill to parchment, and lyrics to a song would seem to spring to life. Sometimes, Kirra didn’t even know where it came from. But, when Hiram was around, the music in her heart dried up like water in a well. There was no inspiration, nothing from which to draw upon. Only angry thoughts and words of hate would suppurate in her mind. She could not sing around him, much less write lyrics to a song.

The bruise on her cheek darkened with the high color that sprang to her cheeks. Iolaus knew, however, that her blush was not from any sort of embarrassment. She was angry. Whether it was at him or at the man who gave her that bruise, Iolaus was unsure. Perhaps it was best he kept quiet about her stepfather until he knew what he was talking about. He knew little of the man and the relationship Kirra shared with him. Obviously, though, it wasn’t a good one. Hercules would fill him in eventually.

Just when the silence between them was beginning to get awkward, Iolaus noticed Hercules beckoning them from the cave’s entrance.

“Come on,” he told Kirra and walked to the cave.

 

* * *

 

Kirra entered the cave behind Iolaus a bit reluctantly. Despite the fact Hercules was there, didn’t make it any easier. It was dank, dark and there was this horrible musty smell that caused her nose to wrinkle. Iolaus was either unaffected by the smell or so used to it he didn’t notice it.

Inside, tall torches stabbed into the earth lit the cave. As Kirra’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she was able to see Penneus seated on a rock. He was looking up with a smile at a younger man who stood next to him. It must be Breccias, because he greeted Hercules and Iolaus with open arms. There was no smile on his face, though. His expression was a mix of sadness and yet relief at seeing friends.

Next to them, Kirra felt like an insignificant fly on the wall. These men had known each other for years and were close as brothers. Kirra had only known Hercules for a couple of days. She was no more than a mere acquaintance compared to the history they shared. For a moment, she felt invisible, as if she were on the outside looking in. It was like reading a bard’s tale; only this time, she was watching instead of reading.

Taking Breccias’ hand in a firm grip, Iolaus said in greeting, “Breccias, it’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Iolaus,” he responded with less enthusiasm than Iolaus would have hoped.

Hercules fretted over the desperate worry in his friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Breccias,” he said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It took me longer to get here than expected. Of course, I also wasn’t expecting for there to be trouble.”

“It’s alright, Hercules. I don’t think it would have made much difference.”

“What’s going on, Breccias?” Iolaus asked worriedly. “Penneus said you were in hiding.”

Breccias took a deep breath, his head held low. It was in much the same way Penneus had only a few moments ago in the woods. He was ashamed. He felt responsible for something, whether or not it was his fault. The hand Hercules had extended to him didn’t seem to offer much in the way of comfort.

“What about your wife and your child?” Hercules asked. “Where are they?”

Instead of answering, Breccias merely turned away from them, hiding his face in the shadows. “When I moved here, I thought I could start a new life; a life away from all the pain of the past. But, it’s happening all over again.”

“ _What’s_ happening, Breccias?” Hercules asked.

When they had last seen Breccias, he _was_ starting to make a new life for himself, despite his past. Hercules had helped him see beyond the pain of war and to look to his future with a measure of hope and happiness. Apparently, he had found that happiness in his new bride. Now, things seemed to have reversed. Breccias was the same brooding, desolate man he was when they saw him in Corinth.

Breccias didn’t answer right away, so Hercules continued, “When we were on the road into the city, we were attacked by soldiers.”

Breccias turned to face Hercules with concern in his eyes, then guilt. “That’s my fault. Those must have been the Prince’s men. I made the mistake of telling him you were coming. I was trying to threaten him, scare him. It apparently didn’t work.”

“Is this the Prince Pervia that Penneus told us about?” Iolaus asked.

Rolling her eyes, Kirra thought, _And they think_ I _ask too many questions?_ Kirra just counted question number five. Who’s got six? Anyone?

Kirra’s musings caused her to almost miss the fire in Breccias’ eyes. The very mention of the Prince’s name turned his desolate worry to fierce anger in seconds. “Yes, that’s him,” Breccias said. Yet, as suddenly as the fire appeared, it faltered into desperation. “Hercules, you’ve got to help me. He’s imprisoned Adriana, my wife, and now he’s seeking to have me arrested, as well.”

“What could you and your wife have done to warrant having you arrested?” Iolaus skeptically asked.

Question number six served up on a silver platter.

“What did I do?” Breccias asked disdainfully. “Apparently, I broke the most sacred law of the land.”

“What law would that be?” asked Hercules.

“I slept with my wife on our wedding night.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

A few hours ago, Kirra had felt invisible, like a fly on the wall. Now, her situation was quite different. She would almost have felt at home were it not for being inside a cave. The difference was in her arms; a small bundle of joy, wriggling and giggling every time she spoke to him. His name was Callimachus, Breccias’ son. With eyes as blue as the depths of the ocean, he was the most gorgeous thing she’d seen since she watched Hercules enter her village. The name wasn’t one she liked particularly, but Breccias said he named him after someone all three of them knew. The man had died in the war. Kirra decided to call the baby Callie for short. It was cuter and much easier on the tongue than Callimachus.

She shared the cave with Breccias and Penneus now. It had been some time since Hercules and Iolaus left, leaving her with the two of them. Normally, she would have argued the point, wanting to be at Hercules’s side, but little Callie gave her a reason to stay behind. She adored babies, and did a lot of baby-sitting back home in Endor. It helped to make ends meet after Hiram had spent all the family’s money on ale and pipe weed.

Humming a song to Callie in the confines of the cave, his big eyes were wide, mesmerized by the sound of it echoing on off the glistening walls. It made her laugh until she caught sight of Breccias pacing and wringing his hands in worry. It was sad to see that his little boy was the farthest thing from his mind, though rightly so. He and his young wife had been through quite an ordeal. Reflecting on her own troubles, she wondered whether they were as terrible as she made them out to be.

She remembered the look on the faces of Hercules and Iolaus when Breccias told them why his wife had been arrested. They had been shocked and so had she. Kirra had never heard of such a thing, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

Breccias told them a story that defied belief:

_“I met Adriana in Corinth and we fell in love almost immediately. She’s so beautiful. So, when I asked her to marry me, she asked if we could move to Attilas to get married and start our family. She grew up here. She loves this place, even though most of her family left years ago._

_“The journey was a long one and our family began before the wedding, but as soon as we arrived in Attilas we were married. We didn’t think anything of it when the priest asked us if we were sure we wanted to get married here. I didn’t know anything about this law. I assumed he was questioning our motives because of the baby. Had I known, we wouldn’t have married, much less settled here._

_“This so-called law states the Prince of Attilas is to ..._ have the bride … _on the wedding night. Only after can the new groom have her back. Well, we didn’t know this, so we celebrated our new life together as any new husband and wife would. When the Prince learned of our marriage the next day, he issued warrants for our arrest. I had been out looking for work while Adriana made our new house a home. When I came back, she was gone, the baby left in his crib. My neighbor, Penneus, told me everything then. I went to the palace to try and reason with the Prince, but he would not hear me. I don’t know how I made it out of there alive after the things I said to him. Since then, I’ve been in hiding, waiting for the two of you to come.”_

Kirra recalled her reaction with some embarrassment. “His father certainly named him right, didn’t he?”

Thankfully, no one responded or even indicated she had said anything. Hercules and Iolaus had seemed more interested in asking questions, trying to draw out as much knowledge of the Prince as they could. In Breccias’ interest, Penneus retold the story of the Kings of the past in the hopes it might begin to explain Prince Pervia to them:

_“The Prince is not ... how should I say ... a handsome man. In fact, he’s quite ugly. I’ve seen him on rare occasions and he’s not a pleasant sight to behold. He is King Aralias’ first born, however, and possible heir to the throne. As such, he’s always received the people’s respect, but he’s not the Kingly sort._

_“I say possible heir because, as King, Aralias would choose only someone worthy of the throne. You see, here in Attilas, rule does not pass down from father to first-born. No. That honor goes only to the man who displays the outstanding qualities of humility shown by the Kings of old. Sadly, Pervia does not seem to have these qualities and King Aralias has taken ill. He’s been bed ridden for many months, unable to say a word or maintain his Kingly duties. He was also unable to name an heir before he became ill._

_“So, Prince Pervia took the throne, supposedly until his father becomes well again. Or until he dies ... in which case, he will pronounce_ himself _King. Since then, he has created new laws, including this one of having the bride before the groom on their wedding night. No one knows for sure, but we assume this is the only way he expects to have an heir and that he intends to change the laws of Attilas forever. That’s why there haven’t been many weddings in Attilas. The few brides that have been unfortunate enough to become a victim of this law are left emotionally scarred. It is well known that Prince Pervia can be particularly cruel.”_

Kirra could not contain her shudder. She knew now why she didn’t believe Penneus’ story before. This was what he left out. Breccias’ reason for preoccupation with other thoughts instead of cradling little Callie in his arms was understandable. He had to be imagining the terrible things that could happen to his wife in the hands of one such as Prince Pervia.

To Kirra, it would be a comfort _not_ to know. The knowledge of her mother’s suffering never brought her any comfort. There were times when she wished to be blissfully unaware of what went on. How many were the nights she lay in bed listening to the sounds from her mother’s bedroom, knowing he was hurting her and knowing she could do nothing about it. Breccias must feel the same way—utterly helpless. He had wanted to go with Hercules and Iolaus, as well, but Hercules told him to stay. They left several hours ago on a mission Kirra saw as foolhardy. Yet, Hercules had been determined to talk to the Prince himself:

_“Give me a chance to talk to him, Breccias. Maybe he’ll hear me out and give me a chance to talk some sense into him. There’s no point in resorting to violence unless it’s the last course. And if I can’t talk to him, I’m sure I’ll find another way to help you and your wife. Trust me.”_

Lost in her thoughts, Kirra didn’t realize she had stopped humming until the baby started to cry. Looking down at his sad little face, Kirra softly cooed him and resumed her humming. His frown soon faded. At the crunch of boots on gravel, she looked up to see Breccias standing beside her. He took a weary seat next to her on the rock and looked down at his son.

“Adriana sings to him all the time,” Breccias said with sadness. “He loves it. It calms him. He’s been crying a lot, since... It’s like he can sense something is wrong.”

“I think all babies are like that,” Kirra said, smiling down at the baby, unable to meet his father’s eyes. “When something changes in their little world, they can tell the difference. They know when something isn’t right.”

“Do you have children?”

“Oh no,” she said with a small laugh. “I just love babies.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him how much she wanted to have one of her own, but it was a silly comment to make considering she barely knew the man.

“You remind me of her.”

The comment took her aback and her heart began to beat in nervous fits. She looked at him warily, but wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on the cave’s entrance where Penneus stood.

“Really?”

By the sad look in his eyes, he was thinking only of his wife. “Her hair is like yours. And you hold him the way she does, and smile down at him the same way. He probably thinks you are his mother.”

“No, I doubt it,” she said, shaking her head. “A baby knows his mommy. I can’t fool you, can I, Callie?” Callie giggled again as she spoke to him.

The little laugh drew his father’s attention and he reached over to smooth the boy’s thick hair across his forehead. With the tenderness only a father could give, Breccias leaned over and kissed his son. It brought tears to Kirra’s eyes as she thought of her own father and how much she missed him. She imagined she was the baby and he was the one leaning down to kiss her forehead as her mother held her in her arms. How she wished she could remember more about him.

“I may be all he has now,” Breccias said, tears forming in his eyes. He looked at Kirra for the first time. “What if he never sees his mother again? What if he has to grow up without ever knowing her?”

His words nearly mirrored the thoughts about her father, but Kirra had no idea how to respond. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

He sighed horribly, the pain as etched in his face as the tears that dropped from his eyes. “I have to do something. I have to get her back. I can’t just sit here!”

Breccias stood and started to head for the cave’s entrance with a determined stride, but Penneus blocked the only exit. He placated Breccias with a gentle hand on his chest. “Sir, stay here! Please! You’ll not do any good to your wife by leaving.”

“Get out of my way, Penneus!”

Little Callie began to cry at the anger he heard in his father’s voice. Scared, Kirra did the only thing she could. Getting to her feet, she slipped between Penneus and Breccias and laid the laid the child in his father’s arms.

“What if he had to grow up without ever knowing _you_? You’re his father. You’re the only one he has right now and you need to be there for him.” She stood with Penneus, pleading with Breccias with her eyes and fighting to keep the calm in her words. “I lost my father when I was very little. I wouldn’t want little Callie to grow up the way I did. Hercules said to trust him. If anyone can help your wife now, it’s Hercules. Give him a chance.”

The hard determination she saw in Breccias softened. Instead of holding the baby like an empty blanket, he cradled Callie in his arms, rocking him. “You’re right,” he said, kissing the baby’s dark locks. “Thank you.”

Kirra sighed, but her heart was still racing. She didn’t want to think of Hercules’s reaction had she let him leave. Not that he had left her with such responsibility, but she felt responsible just the same.

She jumped slightly when Penneus put a hand on her shoulder. “Good job, Kirra. I don’t think I could have been able to do that.”

“Thank you,” she said, as another voice boomed from behind, startling her.

“Yes, very touching.”

Behind them stood a tall man, dressed in the same armor as the men who attacked them on the roadway. Four more men, dressed as he was, entered the cave and flanked him on either side. There was no need to assume the cavalry had come. These were the Prince’s men. Grabbing Penneus by the arm, she drew them both back to Breccias’ side.

The soldier in command drew his sword. “Breccias ... we meet again. I told you if you ran we would find you.”

Breccias handed the baby to Kirra. She took him, worried Breccias would do something rash. He took a step forward, facing the soldier and his sword, but before he could do anything, Penneus grabbed him by the arm.

“No, sir, don’t do it!”

“Don’t worry, Penneus,” the tall soldier said, placing the point of his blade underneath Breccias’ chin. “You did well by telling us where we could find him.”

“What?” Kirra felt cold air wash over her, but there wasn’t a breeze to be had in this place.

Holding Callie tightly against her, she could not contain her shock. Perhaps the soldier was lying, playing it to break up a confidence, but she watched as Penneus lowered his head, pronouncing his shame without saying a word. Now she truly understood why he felt such shame before. He had betrayed his friend. This man she thought was so kind was nothing more than a...

“Traitor! How could you?” Breccias said. She couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t have to imagine what he was feeling.

“Shut up!” the soldier said, digging the sword deeper under Breccias’ chin. “You have nothing worthy to say.” To his soldiers, he said, “Get the girl and the baby, and shackle Breccias. He’s under arrest.”

Kirra skulked backward, her heart hammering. She was sure the soldier coming toward her was one of the men Iolaus had beat senseless earlier that morning. On his jaw was a forming bruise as nice and purple as her own. And he knew she knew. He gripped her forearm and shoved her toward the waiting guards.

“Get your hands off me!” she hissed at him and little Callie began to cry once again.

Two other soldiers shackled Breccias’ hands behind his back and his ankles together. It gave the leader freedom to direct his attention elsewhere, and he was quick. Kirra had little time to react. His sword swung in her direction, landing inches above the baby’s torso. She froze in place. She could hear Breccias struggling with his bonds, but could not see him. Her eyes were on the soldier.

“Keep your mouth shut and quiet the brat. Do you understand me, little girl?”

Hugging little Callie closer to her, Kirra nodded in response, watching with relief as the sword moved from the child’s body. The soldier drew a bag out from under his armor. Tossing it to Penneus, Kirra heard the distinctive sound of clinking coins.

“Here’s your payment. Because of your loyalty to the Prince, _maybe_ he’ll let you keep your land.”

Penneus’ shame was now hundred fold and he couldn’t seem to help but glance in her direction. Kirra gave him what he deserved, a disdainful glare. He deserved worse, but a glare was all she had.

Two of the soldiers dragged Breccias out of the cave by his forearms, his chained feet making it difficult for him to keep up with their quick gait. Then, the brute who had grabbed her before did so again, but this time his grip caused her to wince in pain. This wasn’t a new pain. She’d felt it before and this brute was as big and mean as her step-father.

“Let’s go,” the leader said.

This wasn’t how she expected to leave the cave today. It should have been that Hercules had returned with Adriana, telling them wonderful news—he was able to turn the Prince’s heart and help him to see the wrong he had perpetrated upon his people. She, Kirra, would walk out of this cave, back out into the light of day, with Hercules at her side (...and okay, Iolaus, too...). Instead, this creep was digging his fingers into her arm. It was one of Hiram’s favorite little tortures, too. Kirra fought the tears. This creep wasn’t going to see her cry.

 _Hercules, where are you?_ she thought as the foursome of soldiers led them outside to the gods only knew where.

 

* * *

 

If Hercules could have answered Kirra’s question, he would have told her he was now standing before Prince Pervia … and finding it difficult to keep his eyes fixed respectfully upon him. Penneus had not been far from the mark when he called the Prince an unpleasant sight to behold. No battle scars cut a path across his cheek, no wounds marked his delicate, pink skin. He sported no piercings nor was he inked. He didn’t even have bad teeth.

He was just ... ugly. Hercules could find no polite way to phrase it.

Pervia’s nose and ears were disproportionate to his face. Beady little eyes poked from behind a curtain of eyebrow hair, and the goatee he sported did nothing to hide the number of chins bulging behind it (weight was apparently a problem for the Prince). For the sake of propriety, Hercules hadn’t wanted to mention Pervia’s peculiar eye color (one black, the other pale white), but by some twist of fate (or could it be twist of arm?) it ended up in this tale.

Despite all of Pervia’s unfortunate features, Hercules did his best to respectfully meet the Prince eye to eye. Iolaus, on the other hand, had far more difficulty meeting the task than his best friend. Looking at Pervia was not his problem. Trying to keep the disgusted look off his face was. All he could think of were those few ill-fated brides Penneus told them of. ‘Emotionally scarred’ wasn’t the phrase he would have used. A better term held a damning connotation, one Hades might take a gander on–suicidal. He hoped they made it to Attilas before any of the victims made such a decision. Getting rid of this disgusting thing on the throne had to be their priority if they were to accomplish anything here in Attilas.

Looking at the Prince, knowing the kind of monster he was, called to Iolaus’s mind what Hercules told him of Kirra’s stepfather on their way into the heart of the city. When he described his dilemma and the decision he had to make, Iolaus wished he had gone with Hercules to Endor. Had he been there, he would have taken things to a different level, though his level may not have been the best course of action. His hot head would probably have gotten them into more trouble, because he wouldn’t have been able to control his tongue ... or his fists.

Hearing about the things her stepfather had said right there on his own front step and in Kirra’s earshot, made him sick. Sure, his father had been a jerk, too. Always off to war, never spending time with them as a family and then one day abandoning them. The man never had the guts to be a real father, but he never laid a hand on him, either. Now, Iolaus felt like the jerk. He treated the poor girl hideously, and after everything she had been though. He didn’t think he would ever forget how Hercules described Kirra’s condition when she found him and Salmoneus at their campsite:

_“She looked like ... like … Death herself. She was ghostly white ... pale. I thought she might die in my arms.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“She was in shock and I don’t know why. She won’t speak of it. I’ve been trying not to think about what may have happened in that house after I left.”_

Questions gnawed at Iolaus even now, but he knew better than to ask. And if he knew his buddy, Hercules wouldn’t have asked either. _So be it,_ Iolaus thought. Maybe Hercules didn’t need to know, as he didn’t need to know more about what those poor brides must have endured.

“I guess the tall one must be Hercules.”

His thoughts interrupted by the thing sitting on the King’s throne, Iolaus eyed it with contempt, a few choice words at the ready, but Hercules was there to steady him with a hand on his shoulder. Nope, it definitely would not have turned out well had Iolaus gone to Endor.

Hercules stepped forward, his smile strained. “ _I am_ Hercules. Thank you, your hi—”

Pervia’s eyebrows drew together, but Hercules couldn’t say it, no matter how hard he tried.

“My Lo—” No. That wouldn’t work either. Hercules decided to stick with the facts. “Prince, thank you for taking the time to see me.”

The Prince folded his arms over his protruding belly, a disdainful smirk on his lips. “It is an honor to have one such as yourself grace our fair city.”

Hercules didn’t have to question his sincerity. It was obvious he had none. “Thank you. We were warmly greeted on the road in. I take it we have you to thank for that.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile which didn’t make him look any prettier. “I’m known far and wide for my hospitality to foreign dignitaries. And now that you have an audience with me, I ask what the _great_ Hercules could possibly want of me.” The Prince sat forward with feigned interest, placing his doubled chin onto his fist.

The pompous deviant! He was not what the Kings of Attilas were bred to be. His dripping sarcasm was all it took for Hercules to know the Prince would never bend. Pervia sent those men to attack them to keep him from coming into the city. He feared Hercules might upset his plans for ruling Attilas.

 _Your fears are well founded, Prince, for that’s exactly what I intend to do._ He thought it, but knew better than to say it. Yet, it did foster an idea of just how he should steer the conversation.

“I’ve come to enquire about the well being of your father, King Aralias.”

“My father?” The Prince straightened in his seat. Clearly, he thought the conversation would center around himself. “As everyone knows, he’s not well. He’s dying.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said truly. He wanted the Prince to know where he placed his rule in line with his father’s. “He’s a good man. A good King. From what I hear, his rule has been an exemplary one.”

“I suppose,” Pervia said, uncomfortably.

“I see. And when King Aralias dies, you are taking possession of the throne?”

The Prince raised his chin at the blunt question. “The King never announced his successor. According to the Kings’ Code his rule should then fall to his first born. Are you questioning that?”

“Yes, I am.”

The authority with which Hercules made that statement raised the Prince from the King’s throne, his jowls quivering with fury. “This is an outrage! You are an outsider. What right do you have to question me?”

“You are right,” Hercules said, his countenance unshaken by Pervia’s anger. “I am an outsider, but you see, I’ve also read the Kings’ Code, or at least some of it. It does say that if no successor is announced that the rule is to fall to the first born, but I think you may have forgotten the rest of it. It also says ... and I quote: ‘he must be an honored man, humble in all his dealings, well spoken of by King and commoner alike.’”

“That doesn’t exactly describe you, Prince.”

Iolaus couldn’t help it. Caught up in the moment, his mouth always came unbridled. When it did, icy, condescending words would fall out. He’d yet to learn control in that area, but it worked out in the end. Didn’t it? Evil sneers from princes and annoyed sideways glances from his friend aside, he was the glue that kept their missions in line … even when he shot off his mouth. Thusly, he was the one to spot the young boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen years of age, peering from a curtain behind the throne. The look in his eyes spoke of fear and the weight of a terrible burden. It made him curious. This boy might be the key to an end to the whole charade. While the Prince focused on Hercules, Iolaus committed the boy’s face to memory.

“I know why you’re here, Hercules,” Pervia said, ignoring the little one’s snide comment. “You’re worried about your friend, Breccias, aren’t you? Well, you’ve come to the wrong place if you are looking to plead his case. He and his wife have broken the law and I intend to make him face justice. I thought you fought for justice.”

“I fight for justice when I find a just cause.”

The boy gone, Iolaus found a chance for one more good jab. “Right,” he agreed. “We don’t fight for perverts who violate innocent young women for their own sick pleasure.”

The Prince’s fat cheeks burned so hot Iolaus expected to see them burst into flame and for his quivering jowls to melt from his bones. Instead, what he got was an irritated sigh from his friend.

“Iolaus, would you let me handle this.”

This was a delicately crafted piece of reverse psychology he was working on here and Iolaus was compromising it with his insults. A last look of reprimand and Hercules turned back to the Prince and continued.

“These laws you’ve created are not the sort of laws your father would have put into practice.”

His angry eyes shifted from Iolaus to Hercules. “Maybe that’s why my father is no longer making the laws.”

This was the little piece of confession Hercules needed to confirm what he had been suspecting all along. He knew what would be coming next.

With a stern finger, the Prince pointed in the direction of the exit. “Now, leave my palace before I have you thrown out! And If I find out you’ve incited the people against me—“

“I don’t have to incite the people against you, Pervia. They already are against you. You’ve just put enough fear into them to keep them from turning.” Hercules intended to change that.

“Guards! Get them out of here!”

It wasn’t so difficult looking at Prince Pervia now. Hercules actually enjoyed watching his confidence crumble. It didn’t even bother him to have the guards push and shove them out of the building. Of course, he couldn’t speak for Iolaus.

“Keep your hands off me, friend, or you’ll lose your fingers.”

 

* * *

 

Some minutes later, Hercules and Iolaus came bounding out of the palace gates like tavern-goers who’ve had too much to drink. The guards closed the gates behind them, shouting, “And stay out!”

Iolaus nursed an aching jaw, moving it around to make sure everything was in place. He looked up to see Hercules, hands on his hips, staring at him as if to say ‘I told you so.’ _Uh-oh._ _When the hands are on the hips, I’m gonna get it from the lips,_ he thought.

“What?”

“See what happens to you when you choose not to keep your mouth shut.”

“Hey, that guy was asking for it!”

“And apparently, so were you.”

“Well, now what do we do?” Iolaus returned with his own hands upon his hips and a sneer the size of Greece. “We got kicked out of the palace. How are we going to get back in for Adriana?”

“We don’t.”

“We don’t?”

“Nope,” Hercules said with confidence. “I’ve got it all worked out.”

“You do?”

“Yep.”

“Well, why don’t you clue me in, buddy? Inquiring minds wanna know.” He hated when Hercules did that to him.

Glancing about to assure no one else listened in on their conversation, Hercules grabbed Iolaus by the arm and led him away from the crowd at the gate. “Prince Pervia is killing the King.”

Iolaus’s irritation turned to curiosity. “How do you know?”

“He practically confessed it. Do you remember when I questioned his laws as not being like the King’s?”

“Yeah, he said something like ‘that’s why my father’s not making the laws anymore.’” The understanding of the Prince’s words settled in Iolaus’s mind and showed on his animated face. “Oooh. Looks like someone isn’t exactly happy with the King.”

“Exactly. For whatever reason, Pervia wants the throne. He wasn’t getting in the way he expected, so he decided to take it.”

“And the only way he could do that was to poison the King in such a way so he couldn’t name his successor.”

“And still make it look like he’s dying of natural causes. Then, Pervia would have the legal right to the throne.”

“Wait a minute,” Iolaus said, his hands popping into their air as if he needed them to halt the conversation. “What about that whole thing you recited on the King’s Code? And when did you have time to read that anyway?”

“Actually, I didn’t read it,” Hercules said sheepishly. “I made it up. I had a feeling Pervia hadn’t read the King’s Code in his entire life.”

Iolaus laughed at his friend’s ingenuity. “Quick thinking.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“So, now what do we do?”

“We find out how he’s poisoning the King and we stop him. If the King is the kind of man people say he is, he’ll handle the rest once he’s well.”

That was all well and good, but Iolaus had a feeling Hercules inadvertently left out a crucial step to the plan. “And how are we going to find _that_ out? We’ve kind of been kicked out of the palace, in case you forgot.”

Iolaus’s words gave Hercules pause. He agreed with a nod. “Good question.”

“Perhaps I can help,” came a voice from behind.

When Hercules and Iolaus turned, they saw a young boy standing before them dressed in pauper’s clothes. Though he was the perfect image of a beggar, Iolaus recognized him as the child hiding in the corner of the King’s Hall, the one with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And now that he thought about it, the boy hadn’t just been hiding, he had been watching and listening.

“I know you,” Iolaus said. “I saw you in the palace while we were talking to the Prince.”

A surprising look of confidence fell over the boy’s face, belying the clothing he wore, but it could not hide his worry and desperation. Through it, Hercules saw the same desperate worry he had seen in Breccias’ eyes. This boy had come to him for help, the same as his friend had.

“Who are you, boy?” Hercules asked, though he had a strong feeling this was no mere boy.

“I am Aristoki`as, the King’s youngest son of his second wife and _I_ am heir to the throne.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Surprising though it was to Iolaus, Hercules had begun to suspect the boy’s answer in the way he held himself. An air of nobility hung about him that his pauper’s clothing could not hide. He had seen it before in those of royalty. Most of the time the nobility came with arrogance and spitefulness, as in the case of Prince Pervia, but Hercules did not sense those attributes in this boy.

“ _You’re_ the heir to the throne?” Iolaus asked. He couldn’t be any older than his earlier surmisal—fifteen or sixteen.

The boy glanced cautiously about to make sure no one else had overheard. Then, he dropped his noble airs like a cloak and lowered his head in the fashion of beggars. “Good sirs, I am your servant. If you could but spare a poor boy some food.”

He was smart, too. Hercules had to give him that. It seemed he feared the people for some reason, but Hercules had a feeling he feared Pervia more. Scanning the city streets for a place to eat, Iolaus eyed one quicker. They made their way naturally, as if they were no more than two hungry travelers. Aristokìas followed faithfully behind like a good servant.

Once there, they found a table out of the way and made a show of feeding the poor boy. When they were sure no one cared enough to pay any attention to them, Hercules got down to business. Being careful not to use the boy’s real name, he asked, “So, what does your family call you?”

The boy seemed puzzled, but soon understood his meaning. “Oh ... Kìa.”

“Well, Kìa ... you came to find us,” Iolaus prompted. “You said you could help.”

“It’s true. I can help you ... to get back into the palace, I mean. I know a secret way in. Only the King knows of this passage. And he only passes on the knowledge to his successor.”

“So, Pervia was never supposed to rule,” Hercules said. “You are the one who is to become King.”

“When my father passes, yes.” Kìa lowered his eyes to the empty plate before him. “It shouldn’t be long now. My brother has done this to him, Hercules. I don’t know if you can help, but when I heard you were coming to Attilas my heart lifted a little. I thought maybe...”

Hercules gave the boy’s hand a reassuring pat. “Kìa, don’t worry. You will be King. Pervia will not rule over Attilas for long.”

Some of the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders and he sighed in relief. “Thank you, Hercules.”

“Tell me everything that’s happened.”

The young Prince drew in a deep breath and began his tale. “One day, my father came to say he had chosen to name me as his successor. I was honored to have been chosen, but he had to tell my brother before he announced it to the counsel. I begged father to wait until after.”

“Why?” Iolaus asked, though he knew the answer. It was written on the boy’s face.

“Pervia hates everything about me. He hates that father remarried. He hated my mother, may she rest in The Elysian Fields, and he hates me for being born. He says I stole the love he once had from father. I knew if father spoke to him before the counsel, he might do something vengeful, something to hurt me. Father is a good man, and though he knows Pervia does not have the qualities of the Kings of old, he cannot see the evil in him. He sees only the errant and sometimes forgotten son. Father felt he owed him an explanation for not choosing him.” Kìa looked at his hands. “Pervia reacted as I expected. Father would never tell me, but I heard from some of the men that he threatened to kill me, and father had him confined with guards to his quarters until he calmed and apologized. But father is easily duped by my older brother, and I guess perhaps I am, as well. A few days passed uneventfully and I busied myself planning for father’s 77th birthday party. I forgot all about Pervia’s threats.

“The party was a week later, complete with music and song brought to us by the god of music himself, Apollo. The people of Attilas have built many temples in his honor. Apollo has always been good to us. Yet, the next morning, my father took ill. He couldn't speak, nor had he the ability to feed himself. We thought perhaps he’d had too much wine at the party, but as each day passed he became as a baby who needs tending hour after hour.

“While I cared for father, my brother took the throne. I learned of it after the fact, but by then it was too late.”

“Was it poison?” Iolaus asked curiously.

“Poison? No. Only the poison of my brother’s dark heart. He arrogantly confessed to me what he had done. After the celebration, he went to Apollo’s temple and told him my father derided and ridiculed his musical choices for his birthday celebration. He claimed father had mocked the god of music openly. Because of this, Apollo cursed my father with a dread sickness. I was there, Hercules. My father did no such thing. He is a good man and has always been faithful to the gods. You have to believe me.”

The boy's words dismayed him, though. Kìa had the mistaken view, as did many, that he had some pull or weight with the gods. The way he defended the actions of King Aralias was not a young boy defending his father. He hoped Hercules would plead his case to the gods in his behalf, but Hercules had no intention of pleading with the gods in anyone's behalf, least of all his own. He could do nothing to alter the boy's misperception. Kìa had enough to worry about, but Hercules at least owed him the benefit of comforting words.

“I believe you, Kìa,” Hercules said. “I’m sure your father did nothing wrong.”

“Can you help him?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, not giving away an expression of promise or refusal. “But, I promise you, Kìa, I will try.”

Kìa nodded and attempted a smile, but he could muster no enthusiasm for the response, and Hercules could promise nothing more. He did have an idea where to start, though.

“Kìa, where’s your nearest temple to Apollo?”

“There’s one near the palace,” Kìa said, rising from his seat. “Let me show you.”

Careful not to reveal his true station, Kìa stayed respectfully behind them and directed them through streets and a maze of people to a magnificently decorated temple close to the palace. The building with its domed roofs and scalloped marble arches wasn’t simply near the palace. They were practically joined at the hip; close enough in Hercules’s estimation to be uncomfortable.

Though he had never been in this particular temple to Apollo, Hercules imagined it was like all the others. Its outside magnificence was only a taste of what they would see on the inside. There were other temples in Attilas, each with its namesake’s own sense of self-aggrandizing opulence, but Apollo’s temple made the other’s look paltry in comparison. No doubt, there were arguments aplenty in Mount Olympus over the state of temples in Attilas. Hercules hadn’t been inside one in many years. Had he no need of Apollo, he wouldn’t have set foot in this one either. He and Apollo were not exactly friends. In fact, Hercules found him only slightly more offensive than Ares.

Stepping inside a temple to Apollo was like stepping into a palace. Iolaus was surprised at the richly colored fabrics and ornate decorations. They reflected and cast torchlight about the room, revealing many statues to the god of music. He curled his lip at one that depicted a well-muscled, naked man holding a lyre.

Cocking a thumb at it, Iolaus smirked. “Is that supposed to be him?”

Hercules inspected the face of the statue. “Close. It’s been some years since I’ve seen him, but I’m sure he hasn’t changed much.”

He was a young man the last time he encountered Apollo. Young and desperate to please a father he’d never met. Apollo took advantage of that, pretended to befriend him, gave him ambrosia and a taste of what it was like to be a full god.

“It’s not very flattering.” Iolaus indicated the statue’s nether regions with a chuckle. “I mean, look how small it is.”

Once out, Iolaus’s laughter could not be contained. The joke was typical of his friend, but Iolaus’s laughter was so contagious, Hercules had to smile. Even Kìa covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Not a good idea to be caught laughing at the god of music inside his own temple.

“And I thought Aphrodite was vain,” Iolaus added once he’d gotten control of himself.

“Isn’t Apollo your brother, Hercules?” Aristokìas asked.

“Half brother. We have the same father, but unfortunately, Kìa, that’s as far as the relationship goes.”

Actually, the last time he saw Apollo, they had fought. Passing along the information would not lessen the worry the young prince carried, so Hercules kept it to himself. It wasn’t his place to tell the people of Attilas their adoration and worship of this so-called deity was misplaced. They had no idea that to Apollo mortals were only good for what he could get out of them. Once someone was of no more use to him, he dumped them like garbage. Hercules wished he could have gone without another encounter. No matter how much he didn’t want to see Apollo again, he had to get it over with. Time was literally running out for King Aralias, and probably for Adriana, as well.

“Apollo!”

No response.

“Come on out, Apollo. I need to talk to you.”

With his arms crossed, Iolaus watched for any sign, any flicker of light that would indicate a god was present. But none came.

“Hey, Herc.” When he turned, Iolaus patted the foot of the not so well sculpted statue that had given him the giggles a few moments earlier. “I’ve got a feeling he may be a little fond of his statues. Do you think he would pay any attention if something happened to one of them? Say, if one of them happened to accidentally fall from its pedestal?”

“Hmm,” Hercules mused, taping a concerted finger upon his chin. “That’s a good question, Iolaus. Let’s find out.”

With a quick stride, Hercules slapped the palms of his hands to the statue’s chest and no lower. Any other man might have broken a wrist or two, but Hercules didn’t expend much energy into shoving the heavy statue off of its pedestal. It landed on the marble floor with a hideous crash, and in several pieces. Iolaus leapt in time to avoid the head of Apollo as it rolled across the temple floor.

“That statue was crafted by one of my father’s finest sculptors,” the boy said, but where they should have been seen dismay in his eyes there was a fierce glare. “I’m not sure that was a good idea, Hercules. The god of music made my father sick over words he didn’t even say. Wouldn’t he have an equal reaction for breaking one of his statues?”

“Don’t worry, Ki`a.” Hercules felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. It wasn’t an unusual sensation, for he’d felt it many times before. He turned to see Apollo, god of music, appearing at the rear of the temple. “He knows better than to do anything to me.”

The golden god made no spectacular flying entrance this time. No, when he appeared, he was in the middle of putting on his gold colored vest, revealing the muscled chest the statue had depicted so well. What it didn’t reveal was his bronze skin and his golden curls which matched in brilliance the gold that decorated his temple. Today, his curls and his usually immaculate appearance were a tousled mess.

“What in Tartarus are you doing, Hercules?! Can’t you give a god a chance? I was _busy!”_ Looking down, Apollo saw his statue in pieces on the floor. “Aw, man! That was my favorite statue!”

His anger didn’t concern Hercules in the least, but it did clue him in to the fact that Apollo had revealed himself only to Hercules. It was apparent Iolaus and Aristokìas could not see or hear him. If they could, Iolaus would have laughed.

“Do you see him yet?” his friend asked from behind him.

“Yeah, he’s right here. He’s fuming over his favorite statue.”

On cue, Iolaus began to laugh. Searching the floor, he kicked the badly sculpted manly parts at Hercules’s feet. “Tell him to keep it as a souvenir.”

“And tell your little friend to keep his mouth shut!” Fuming, Apollo snapped his fingers and the small bit of sculpted marble disappeared in a flash of light. “Now, what do you want?”

Joking aside, Hercules faced Apollo with seriousness. “I want you to lift this curse you have on King Aralias.”

“Absolutely not.”

“And why not? King Aralias is a good man.”

“He insulted one of my Muses! And he insulted _me_. I don’t stand for that kind of insolence ... especially from a mortal.” He issued his last comment at Iolaus. Thankfully, Iolaus was oblivious to the threat or he might have found new ways to show Apollo just how insolent he could be. That would not have worked in their favor.

“According to the King’s son, Aristokìas, the King never said those things about you or your Muses.”

“And why should I believe you?” Apollo asked, hands propped on slender hips. “For all I know, you’re still holding a grudge about what happened years ago.”

Hercules sighed. It was just like Apollo to dredge up the past. The worst thing that happened was Hercules succumbing to Apollo’s peer pressure. He had been impressionable in those days and he had envied his half-brothers and sisters for being able to spend time with a father he had never met. He’d taken a bite of the ambrosia Apollo offered him, and it afforded him the opportunity to not only become a full god for a time, but to finally meet Zeus. In the end, Hercules chose to give it up. Impressionable though Hercules may have been, Zeus had not impressed him at all. And neither had Apollo once he truly got to know him.

“I have no reason to hold a grudge, Apollo. I beat you, remember?”

“Please.”

This was not the time to remind the god of music how easily he’d given up without a fight. The present was pressing. “Would you believe if you heard it from Prince Aristokìas himself?”

“Whatever, bro, I’ve got someone waiting on me. I don’t have time for this.”

“King Aralias doesn’t have time either,” Hercules said in anger, taking a step toward Apollo. “A good King is dying because of your arrogance, while his pathetic excuse for a son takes the throne.”

“Pervia?” Apollo asked, as disgusted look on his face. “That perverted slob is trying to take the throne? But, he’s the one that told me...”

“It’s true, My Lord,” Kìa said, down on his knees before Hercules could stop him. “My father has only ever been loyal to you. He would never say the things my brother said he did. Pervia is ruling over Attilas with an iron hand. The people are afraid.” He interlaced his fingers in prayer. “You’ve got to help us. Please, remove this evil curse from my father.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, having little sympathy for the prince’s plight. “Great! Now, it’s an _evil_ curse. Well, I was defending my honor.”

“Do what the boy is asking of you, Apollo,” Hercules demanded.

“As much as I abhor Pervia, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because _I_ can’t. When I placed the curse on him, it was a binding curse never to hear music or see beauty ... or ...” Apollo waved his hands in the air, trying to remember the exact incantation. “Or ... speak the eloquent words of poets ... something like that. Anyway, the curse cannot be broken. Only by the voice of a goddess can the curse be lifted.”

“Then, it’s simple. Get one of your Muses to lift the curse.”

“Impossible. They were so hurt by what the King supposedly said, they hid themselves in shame. I haven’t been able to find them in ages.”

“Typical.”

“Sorry, Hercules, but I can’t help you. Guess you’re going to have to figure this one out all by yourself. I’ll keep a close eye, though. I plan on taking care of Pervia myself.”

Apollo made as if to leave when he remembered his statue. With a snap of his fingers, the pieces disappeared from the floor in a flash of golden light and reappeared in one piece back on the pedestal. All except for one piece. Watching, Iolaus witnessed the reappearance of the piece back in its original position. Only this time it was disproportionately larger. Iolaus laughed. The vanity of the gods amused and bemused him at the same time.

Young Kìa regained his feet. “What did he say, Hercules?”

“He said the only way to lift the curse is by the voice of a goddess.”

Iolaus went from chuckling to frowning in a matter of seconds. “The voice of a goddess? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t exactly explain himself.” Seeing the worry on Kìa’s face, Hercules added, “Don’t worry, Kìa. I’ll think of something.”

Hercules was figuring out what that ‘something’ might be, when the doors to the temple opened.

“Hercules! Iolaus!” a familiar voice called. Salmoneus crossed the temple floor in their direction.

“Great,” Iolaus said under his breath. Hercules thought the same thing, but kept his tongue.

“I thought I saw the two of you come in here.” Salmoneus arrived, wagging a finger at Hercules, a mischievous yet grateful smile on his face. “Hercules, you kidder. You had me for a while there.”

“Did I?”

“That was no toga shop! I have to admit it was clever, though, sending me over there to distract me. But, no hard feelings, old buddy, I assure you. I met the nicest man in one of the most fabulous clothing shops I’ve ever been in. You are not going to believe this, but...”

“Probably not.”

“The owner is looking to franchise.”

“Franchise?” Iolaus asked.

“Yeah, can you believe it? He sensed the salesman in me from the moment I stepped foot in the place. The only problem is...”

Salmoneus stopped and looked around, at once taking in and realizing his surroundings. “What are you doing in a temple to the god of music?” He knew Hercules was not much for the gods, so he was quite sure his question was a valid one, but that didn’t stop him from throwing in his next question. “Praying for a new skill?”

“No, Salmoneus. Trying to get some questions answered.”

“From the god of music?” Before either of them could answer, he noticed the poor little boy standing behind them. His face curled in disgust at his dirty face and clothes. “And who’s the scrawny kid?” he asked Hercules in a whisper.

Exasperated, Iolaus turned to Hercules and said, “Can I or do you want to?”

“Be my guest.”

“Okay, Salmoneus, here’s the problem...”

 

* * *

 

“...and that’s why we’re here trying to get answers from the god of music.” Iolaus took a deep breath as if he hadn’t taken one in his entire soliloquy. Exhaling, he said, “I need something to drink.”

Salmoneus stared at them dumbfounded, his mouth hanging slightly open. “He’s the heir to the throne?” he asked, pointing to the dirty little boy who stared superciliously at him. Hercules and Iolaus were exasperated in tandem. “Okay, okay, I heard you. I get it. The King has been cursed by Apollo. You gotta find a way to break the curse. So, how do we do that?”

“That’s where the real problem lies, Salmoneus,” Hercules said. In the time it took Iolaus to tell the story, Hercules had gone round and round with useless ideas and now he was all out of them. “Only the voice of a goddess can break the curse. And the Muses aren’t available, so don’t even ask.”

“The voice of a goddess?” Salmoneus asked, his voice thoughtful.

Iolaus turned to Hercules, one arm across his chest, and the other propped up under his chin. “So, what do think? Aphrodite maybe?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “It depends on what Apollo meant by _the voice_ of a goddess.”

“Well, how was it worded? Did he tell you?”

“Something to do with never hearing music or beauty or speaking the words of poets.” Hercules shrugged. “I don’t know. Didn’t make much sense to me. I don’t think it made much sense to Apollo, either.”

“Okay, _the voice of a goddess_... music, words of poets...” Iolaus gave Hercules a smile that turned into a laugh. “Can’t be Aphrodite. Her poetry would probably kill him.” His laughter died in his throat when he saw the look on the boy’s face. “Sorry, Kìa.”

“No, it has something to do with the voice, remember? It’s something a goddess has to say or...” Hercules shook his head. The answer wasn’t coming to him.

“What is wrong with the two of you?” Salmoneus asked, drawing their sudden attention. He stared at them as if he were looking at two of the dumbest men in the known world instead of the son of Zeus and his best friend. “The answer is so simple my brain doesn’t even hurt.”

“How would you know the answer to the riddles of the gods?” Iolaus said.

“Hello? ‘The voice of a goddess.’ Come on. The answer has been right under your noses the entire time.”

“What are you talking about?” Hercules asked. Though annoyed, he was curious to know what Salmoneus had come up with. “What’s been right under our noses?”

With a short chuckle, Salmoneus said to the young Prince as if they were old friends, “I got this one before Hercules. Can you believe it?”

“Salmoneus.”

“Yeah?”

“Make your point.”

He wiped the smile off his face. “Don’t you remember what I said this morning on the road?”

“What?” Hercules answered, and there wasn’t an ounce of curiosity in his tone.

“To Kirra, remember? The tour? Her name up in lights? ‘Kirra of Endor, the voice of a goddess.’”

Hercules and Iolaus stared at Salmoneus as the understanding of what he was saying came to them. Then, they turned to each other to gauge the other’s thoughts on the idea.

Iolaus was the first to speak. “But, Kirra is not a goddess.”

“Hey, you heard the same voice I heard last night, and it didn’t get me into any trouble.”

Iolaus’s curious frown turned into a scowl. “Funny. I told you, it was Hercules’s voice that caught my attention.”

Salmoneus nodded, but not without a disbelieving smirk. He looked to the big guy and said, “Hercules, if Kirra’s voice is not the voice of a goddess, I don’t know what is.”

Hercules pondered Salmoneus’s idea. He had, in fact, never heard a voice like Kirra’s anywhere before. It was quite beautiful. “To never hear music, broken only by the voice of a goddess,” Hercules voiced the incantation aloud.

“Music ... voice...” Iolaus shrugged, slapping his arms down at his sides. “Singing? Maybe that’s what it means.”

“What do you mean maybe?” Salmoneus asked.

“Because it doesn’t necessarily mean _Kirra’s_ voice. She is not a goddess.”

“But, it is worth a try,” Hercules said to the two of them. “For the sake of this Kingdom.” Turning to the young prince, Hercules added, “And it’s people.”

Salmoneus looked around. “By the way, where _is_ Kirra?”

 

* * *

 

Kirra landed to the ground with a rough shove. If it weren’t for the length of her skirt, she would have scraped her knees. Her hands, however, didn’t fare as well. She lifted them from the wet dungeon floor to inspect them only to see a mix of blood, loose skin and slick debris on her palms. She got to her feet in time to see the guard slam the cell door shut behind her. _Creep,_ she thought and wiped the palms of her hands on the upper part of her skirt. They stung like ale on an open wound. And she would know; Hiram used to do it all the time. “For medicinal purposes,” he would say, but she always thought he got a sick sort of pleasure out of it. Grimacing, she wrapped her arms about herself in an effort to keep the chill of this dank place away. It accomplished little.

From several cells down, a voice called, “Kirra, are you alright?”

It was Breccias. While the brute of a guard was shoving her into a cell, another had brought Breccias to one farther down. She couldn’t see him from her vantage point. Few torches lit the dark places and there were more dark places than light.

Kirra found the only seat, a cot in the corner of her cell, and took it. “I’m in a dungeon. Of course, I’m not alright.”

Breccias sighed from across the way, his breath sounding like a windstorm within the confines of the dungeon, but it was another voice that made her jump.

“Pipe down over there! Some people are trying to sleep.”

From somewhere in the cell next to her came this gruff voice, scratchy from years of screaming at people perhaps, or smoking ... or both. She didn’t want imagine the person hiding behind that voice, but it came anyway. A scraggly beard caked with the dungeon’s dinginess, hands rough and calloused, black dirt under the fingernails and dug into the fingerprint ridges, clothes tattered and torn, revealing a nearly emaciated form with enough muscles in his arms to take her in a deadly embrace.

A squeak in one corner, a skittering in the other and a shuffling in the cell next to her was all it took to contort Kirra’s face in fear and bring tears to sting her eyes. She’d lived long, torturous years with Hiram, but never in her life had she ever found herself in a place like this. She felt sick from fear. The darkness pressed in around her from all sides. Strange sounds echoed: dripping water, a groan, the creaking spring of a cot, the shuffle of feet. There was no telling how many murderers, cutthroats, and thieves lurked behind the bars of these cells. Maybe Hercules and his friend were used to this kind of thing, but she wasn’t. Why was she the one to end up in this place?

Despite her fear, Kirra forced herself to stop thinking so selfishly. _You’ve been in worse situations with Hiram than this,_ she told herself. _This is nothing._ At least, the brute hadn’t tossed her in with a cellmate like the once she had imagined. She would be fine. The ones to worry about were Breccias and his wife. They were in more danger than she was. They were the ones who needed help. And since Hercules was nowhere to be found, Kirra needed to take responsibility for it.

_What am I thinking? Breccias is a strong man. He fought in the Peloponnesian War! Why would he need my help?_

No, she was going to sit her butt right here and not move one inch. What could she do anyway? She was nothing more than a frightened little girl...

A frightened little girl locked in a closet...

Locked in a closet and trying to keep the sound of her mother’s crying from reaching her ears.

_Callie!_

Poor little Callie had been ripped from her arms by the tall man who had taken them captive in the cave. The sound of his fearful cries and of a father screaming for his child still rang in her ears. The man held the baby under his arm as he were a satchel or a round of bread. She swore he’d never laid eyes upon a child before in his life the way he handled him and pawned him off onto another guard when they reached the dungeon. “Here, take it to the Prince,” he had said, and Breccias had screamed. It sickened her to think of it. Why was Breccias worried about her safety? She was no one in comparison to his son.

She had to do something, though, for Callie’s sake. But what? If she had the strength of Hercules, she could pry the bars open and slip through. In this darkness, the guards would be none the wiser. But she wasn’t Hercules. Maybe if she had gotten out more and got to know a little more about the ways of the world, she could use her feminine wiles to charm her way out. But, she was an innocent to those ways. It would seem she truly was nothing more than a frightened girl. She could no more help Breccias, his wife and child, than she could help herself. The thin thread of hope she clung to was that Hercules would soon realize they were missing from the cave and come to their rescue.

And that he would give to Penneus what he deserved for betraying them.

 

* * *

 

Having left Salmoneus and Kìa back at the temple, Hercules and Iolaus raced back toward the cave. Though unsure of Salmoneus’s take on the breaking of the curse and uncertainty in their own willingness to go along with the idea, they were out of options. And they were running out of time. Only the gods knew how much longer King Aralias had left. If Kirra’s voice was all they needed to break this curse, then it would seem The Fates were on their side.

Rounding a bend in the road, however, who should they come upon walking slow and dejected as if someone just killed his best goat for lunch? Penneus. He looked up from his inspection of the dirt road when he heard the skidding of their booted feet.

“Looks like we may need to rethink that whole idea about The Fates, Herc,” Iolaus said when Penneus’s eyes fell upon their curious faces.

“Maybe,” he said. Curiosity had dropped from his expression. “Penneus? What are you doing out here?”

It was hard not to see the fear in the old man’s eyes. When he didn’t answer, Hercules knew something was wrong. In the few seconds of standoff as the two contemplated the one, and before Penneus darted into the thicket away from them, Hercules had begun to wonder if he had been right to suspect the old man. It would appear his fears were well founded. No way was old Penneus taking his morning run around the city. No, it would seem he was trying to see if he could outrun the son of Zeus.

Hercules turned to his friend with a befuddled frown. “Is he trying to run _from me_?”

Iolaus shrugged his shoulders, holding his ground as was Hercules, though Penneus had disappeared into a denser part of the wood. “Looks that way. You gonna go after him?”

“Well, I thought I’d give him a head start,” he said, patient hands on his hips. “He’s an old guy. It’s only fair.”

“Ah,” Iolaus said with a nod, noting the way the sunlight beamed through the leaves and watching the birds chirp in its branches. A cricket hopped across the road. “Now?”

“Yeah, now is good.”

Knowing Iolaus was the faster runner, Hercules sent him around to cut him off. Hercules, on the other hand, took off into the woods behind Penneus. The old guy was running for a reason and Hercules had a bad feeling he knew what it was. Before long he caught sight of the old man’s robes flapping through the scraggly brush. They were torn and snagged from thorns and overhanging branches. A cut had even lanced itself across Penneus’ cheek. Had the old man not been tiring out, Hercules might had needed to put on extra speed, but Penneus was flagging when Iolaus popped out of nowhere and wrestled him to a stop.

Hercules got there in time to see Iolaus pull a small sack from Penneus’ hand. “What is it?”

Iolaus upended the sack into his open palm and dozens of dinars fell into his hand and onto the ground. “Is this what they call blood money?”

Penneus’ breaths came thick and heavy. “No,” he denied. “It’s called trying to get by. I didn’t have any choice. Pervia was going to take my land if I didn’t.”

“If you didn’t do what?” Hercules asked.

“Turn him in. I’m sorry, Hercules. I didn’t have a choice. I swear.”

He grabbed at the old man’s lapels and jerked him closer. “What about the girl? Kirra? Where is she?”

Penneus shook his head sadly. “They took her, too. And the baby.”

Angry, Hercules loosened his grip and Penneus stumbled backward. He would have fallen were it not for Iolaus. He watched his friend stand away from them, his back rigid. Nothing but guilt could make Hercules react in such a way. He felt guilty for having left the girl unprotected. This was no different than the way he’d reacted to the death of Deianeira and children. If anything happened to Kirra, he would blame himself as he had then. It had been his choice, he said, to let her come along on his trip to Attilas. She hadn’t wanted to go back home and Iolaus could understand why. This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. He was sure it’s what went through his friend’s mind. And that made him angry.

Chucking the sack at Penneus, Iolaus said, “Get out of here.”

The sack bounced off him and onto the ground. Penneus reached down to collect it as well as the dinars that had fallen amongst the leaves. Moving away from them, the old man cowered, as if they might try to grab him again. “I’m sorry. I only did what I had to do. Please forgive me.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Hercules,” Iolaus said, once Penneus had disappeared amongst the trees. “Kirra’s got more spunk than I think even she realizes.”

“I shouldn’t have left her here, Iolaus.” Of all the different decisions he could have made, it would seem he made the wrong one. He thought that by leaving her in the cave with Breccias, she would be safer than with him leading her into the lion’s den.

“Herc, you can’t blame yourself for what Penneus did. We’ll get her out along with Breccias and his family.”

Hercules turned to him then, his expression set with a fear Iolaus didn’t expect. “If we make it in time.”

“You don’t think Pervia would...?”

The only answer Hercules gave was a silence as still as the grave.

“Then what are we doing standing around here talking about it? Let’s get going!”

Iolaus didn’t wait. He took off towards the road leading back into the city. Hercules could do little else but follow in his partner’s wake.


	7. Chapter 7

From his seat on the steps of Apollo’s temple, Salmoneus eyed the palace guards with suspicion. They had been watching him ... or at least, he thought they had been watching him. Several times, they pointed in his direction, talking amongst themselves. They might have been talking and pointing at someone else. One of the lovely young ladies tending the temple, perhaps. Then again, what if they _were_ talking and pointing at him? What if they had seen him with Hercules and Iolaus outside the temple, the two men they had just thrown from the palace? What if they were waiting for the right moment to strike?

_Hurry back, Hercules._

Salmoneus scurried back into the temple. The boy that would someday be King was once again kneeling before the temple altar and praying. Didn’t the kid get it? The gods weren’t going to help him or his father. You’d think he’d get tired of wasting prayers that weren’t being answered.

Anxious and frustrated, Salmoneus paced back and forth, wishing he had stayed in the clothing store instead of feeling as if he had to return to Hercules out of some sense of loyalty. Did he think the big guy was going to miss him or something? Any minute the palace guards could come in and demand to know why he was loitering in the temple. What would he tell them? Ah, yes! He’ll tell them he’s the boy’s musical instructor and the kid’s desperate enough to think Apollo will grant him the ability to play the pan-flute without lessons. “Kids these days,” he’ll say with a shake of his head. Yeah, that’ll do it!

Just then, the door to the temple swung open. His heart, tuned to the fear of the palace guards, nearly skipped a beat, but to his unbounded relief it was only Hercules and Iolaus.

“Oh, thank the gods!”

Looking winded and a trifle windblown, Hercules didn’t rest his eyes upon the salesman, but upon the boy at the altar. “Don’t waste your time, Salmoneus.”

“Yeah, this is all their fault,” Iolaus said, sounding more winded than Hercules.

Kìa, distracted from his fervent praying, ran to meet the two men. “Have you found her? The one with the voice of a goddess?”

“Hey, where _is_ Kirra?” Salmoneus asked. In his relief to see the two return, he hadn’t readily noticed her absence. She should have come in beside them, giddy with the adventure.

For now, Hercules had to ignore him. There was no time. “Kìa, where does the Prince put prisoners under arrest?”

 _“Prisoners?”_ Salmoneus said.

“In the dungeon under the palace,” Kìa answered.

“This secret passage you were telling me about, can you get to it from the dungeon?”

“Yes,” Kìa said with a quick nod. “It’s just a stone’s throw.”

“Good,” Hercules said with a smile and a pat on the boy’s shoulder. “I need you to take us there.”

“Of course, Hercules. Right this way.” Kìa led the way out the temple and into the bright afternoon sun.

On the way, Salmoneus stopped Hercules. The fear in his eyes was not only for himself. “Dungeon? Kirra’s in a dungeon?”

Though he hated to pause even for a second, he had to placate the man. “You want to save her, don’t you?”

His nod was vigorous despite his fear.

“Then, we go to the dungeon.”

Without another word, Hercules moved past Salmoneus, following Kìa’s was lead. When Salmoneus didn’t follow as quickly, Iolaus took it upon himself to gently shove him out the door.

“Come on, Salmoneus. Let’s go get your girlfriend.”

 

* * *

 

Kirra looked down at the stone floor beneath her feet. Nope, she hadn’t yet worn a rut. Surprising, considering how much she had paced since the guard had thrown her in. With evening setting in, the inside of the cell had grown quiet, save for the constant dripping of moisture and the chattering and scampering of rats. It was a good thing rats didn’t bother her or she would have been a basket case.

Maybe it was the story of the princess with rats for friends that mother used to tell her when she was a girl. At bedtime, mother would tuck her in and begin one of many tales, but the one of the sad and lonely princess, whose older sisters bullied her, that stuck with her over the years. Strangely, the princess’s only friends were rats, but they were good rats. They cheered her up with their chatter when her older sisters refused to let her go to the Royal Ball. There a handsome young Prince was looking for a bride. Her friends the rats, along with the assistance of the Mother of all Fairies, helped her make it to the Royal Ball in time to meet the Prince. They fell in love and lived happily ever after. Now that she was older, Kirra realized what a corny story it really was.

_Happily ever after. What a joke!_

The story’s only good effect on her—she wasn’t afraid of rats or mice. They were cute little critters with their pointy noses and wiry whiskers. Bugs on the other hand…

They were here. She could hear them buzzing by her head. One even crawled on her arm a bit ago. It took everything she had not to scream and incur the wrath of the man in the cell over.

If only the childhood story could have cheered her up a bit. No such luck. The rats in this dungeon were likely no friendlier than her neighbor. She certainly didn’t expect them to chew through the iron bars and help her to escape. Nice fantasy, but reality was too real to ignore. Reality was she had been in here for hours, and still no sign of Hercules. Where was he? She would readily accept the help of his annoying little friend at this point. Hercules should have been here by now. Was he coming at all?

Though it now seemed ages ago, a couple of days had passed since she last had the same thought. He hadn’t come to her rescue. He told her she needed to be the hero, and despite what he thought, Kirra hadn’t completely lived up to that. Maybe now was her chance to be the hero. She doubted her own abilities, but there was no getting around it. She had to set her fears aside and do something.

Carefully, she approached the cell door. Perhaps they had been stupid enough to forget to lock the door. Kirra shook it gently.

_Nope. Dumb thought. Think, stupid, think!_

Diversion. That’s it! But what?

Poking her head through the bars as far as she could, Kirra called out, “Excuse me!”

There was no immediate response. The reining silence echoed back to her. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a chair being pushed back and saw a movement of torchlight. The sound of footsteps came to her ears and light flickered toward her cell. At the sight of it fear seized her and Kirra had absolutely no idea what she was going to say.

“What do you want?” the guard asked as he approached her cell. This wasn’t the brute who shoved her in here a couple hours ago, nor did this one have the same ugly scowl on his face. He was actually kind of cute. Nice jaw line, full lips and maybe a dimple or two if he bothered to smile. She imagined under that helmet he had a head full of unruly dark curls one her age might enjoy running her fingers through. This helped knock back some of her fear and replace it with a bit of bravery.

“Um…” Kirra stammered. What to say? _Don’t think,_ something inside said. _Just speak!_ “I have to go.”

The guard expelled an irritated sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re under arrest. You can’t just _go_.”

Kirra frowned. For such a nice looking guy, he was slow. “No, I mean I have to **_go_** … really bad.”

This time, the guard frowned. “Well, that’s what the corner is for. Pee over there.”

“Huh? No! There’s nothing but men in here.”

The guard pointed to the opposite corner of her cell. “That corner is darker.”

Feigning a wounded look, Kirra said, “Oh, please. You look like a nice young man. Don’t you have someplace _private_ I could go?”

“You’re that desperate?”

Kirra nodded her head and contorted her face with a grimace, playing it for all it was worth. She watched him weighing the pros and cons in his mind. There was a mini battle going on in there. When he chanced a look around, she knew he would acquiesce.

“Oh all right,” he said and grabbed the key ring on his belt. “You just better be quick about it. It’s my end on the line if you don’t.”

Smiling in relief, she said, “Oh, I will. I promise. Thank you so much. You’re so kind.”

“Quiet,” he said, but there was a hint of a smile on his cute face, and yes, there were dimples in those cheeks. The key went into the lock and before she knew it, the cell door was opening before her. He grabbed her by the arm, whispering a hurried “Come on,” then lead her down the dank and dirty corridor. Kirra chanced one glance back, hoping Breccias could see her and know she was attempting escape.

Outside the cell, the guard led Kirra up a small flight of stone stairs. He opened the iron door, spilling a ray of torchlight into the interior. Kirra was momentarily blinded, but she didn’t miss seeing him poke his head out of the door and look around. He must be a nicer guy than she thought. Evidently, taking a prisoner out of her cell broke all the rules. What would the Prince do to him if he were caught? She didn’t think about it as he led her through a small passage to the right and out of another door into daylight. She was grateful for the dwindling light and the sun setting behind them. She had to squint, but the brightness outside was not so bright she had to shield her eyes.

The guard indicated a tall bank of shrubs and brush. “Go ahead.”

“Oh, right here?” she asked, trying her best to appear clueless and therefore harmless.

Now was the moment of truth. What should be her next move? Kick him in the shin and run? Weave a fabulous story, turn his heart to mush and escape? Or feign sickness and when he comes to check on her, brain him with a heavy branch?

Kirra turned from her inspection of the brush to see the guard standing there, anxious and impatient for her to do her business. She didn’t think. She just spoke.

“Well, what are you doing?” she said, giving him her best expression of shock and dismay. “Turn around! You can’t watch!” She shooed him away as she backed into the brush.

Impatiently, the guard turned. “Just hurry … and don’t try anything funny.”

“I’ve got to pee. What’s funny about that?”

His back to her, Kirra fought to hold back her excitement. It worked! She silently thanked the gods there had been a dumb guard on watch when she came up with the idea. Cute guard, but dumb nonetheless. Kirra slipped into the brush, watching him closely. She bit her lip, trying not to give her ruse away. He would soon expect to hear a particular sound, and when that didn’t happen, he would turn back. He would see she was trying to escape. She needed the cover of trees. As soon as she could no longer see the guard through the heavy foliage, she was going to—

A hand appeared from behind her, wrapped itself around her mouth and in a flash she was through the shrubs. Instant fear took over. Her mind ran through a number of evils. Was it the tall guard who had captured her and Breccias back in the cave? Was it the hideous Prince Pervia that Penneus described?

_Was it Hiram?_

The instant the thought of him occurred, she fought like a wild cat against her captor, nails at the ready, heels kicking. The grip around her waist tightened, and a voice whispered at her ear. “ _Shhh_ , its Iolaus.”

Relief flooded her just as the grip on her waist lessened enough for her to wriggle free. She knew she no longer had anything to fear, but her expression still read with it … and perhaps a bit of anger, as well. Iolaus help up his hands in much the same fashion as he had the night before. This time, however, his eyes warned her to be careful.

She had no time for retaliation anyway. The guard on the other side of the shrubs called out, “Are you done yet?”

“Yep,” came a very masculine response.

Hercules himself stood behind the guard, waiting for him to turn around in surprise. It had been his idea for Iolaus to grab Kirra once the guard’s back was turned. The four of them were about to go through the very door the guard came out of when, to their surprise, he had Kirra in tow. Hiding behind the shrubs before they made their move, they watched her play her little ruse. Iolaus felt vindicated to see her devising a clever plan to get herself out of the dungeon. Hercules, on the other hand, scarcely believed what he saw. After what she’d been through, he didn’t expect such ingenuity from her.

Kirra might not have classified herself that way, but she was certainly smart enough to know the cute guard, who’d been so gracious as to unwittingly help her escape, would be out cold in seconds.

And her suspicion was right on the mark.

Hercules didn’t wait long for the stunned guard to face him. Not one word did he speak before Hercules’s fist found his jaw. They heard the crack of it and the sound of his crumbling form colliding with the ground. Kirra left Iolaus behind and crashed back through the shrubs to find the guard was indeed out cold, laying face down in his own set of shrubs.

Hercules turned to her. “Are you alright?”

Kirra nonchalantly nodded in answer, staring at the body of the unconscious guard sprawled on the ground.

“He’ll live, Kirra,” Hercules responded with some curiosity, then took her by shoulders. “Are _you_ alright?”

Again, she nodded, but with insistence. “Yes, I’m alright. How did you find me?”

“Penneus,” Iolaus answered leading Salmoneus and a strange boy in ragged clothing toward them. “We found him on the road to the cave with a satchel full of dinars.”

She glanced from the boy to Iolaus to Hercules questioningly, a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t ask. “Oh, I hope you beat him senseless.”

Hercules almost laughed. “No, but he’ll get his in the end. Don’t worry.”

“Traitors always do,” Iolaus added.

Salmoneus broke into their conversation and met her with a crushing hug. “Thank the gods you’re alright. I feared you’d be drawn and quartered before we could get to you.”

“Not likely,” she said, knowing she’d thought the same thing an hour ago. “What are you doing here, Salmoneus? You should be selling togas.”

“Who cares for togas when _you’re_ locked in a dungeon?”

“Not just me.” She looked to Hercules. “Breccias is still in there. He’s okay, but … they took the baby from me,” she said, her bottom lip trembling. “I don’t know where they took him…”

“Hercules,” said the raggedy boy, looking up at her. His brilliant blue eyes seemed awestruck at her presence. “Is she the one?”

Kirra didn’t know where to put herself or her fresh tears. She wiped them away, uncomfortable by the way he looked at her, as if he were blinded by a celestial light.

“We’re about to find out, Kìa,” Hercules said, taking Kirra by the arm.

“Who is he and what’s he talking about?” she asked. Hercules had led her back toward the open door before she could fully form the question.

“There’s no time for introductions and explanations, Kirra. We’ve got to get back in—”

“No, no, no,” she cried, wrenching herself from his grasp. She could see where this was going. Iolaus had already opened the door to the dungeon and was ushering Salmoneus and the blue-eyed boy in ahead of him. “I’m not going back in there! Are you insane?”

“Hey, if you were brave enough to get yourself out of there, you’re brave enough to get yourself back in,” Iolaus said.

If that was his attempt at injecting in her a dose of self-confidence, it wasn’t working. Two hours in that place was enough. She wasn’t going back in!

“I’m not going to argue with you, Kirra,” Hercules said, taking her by the shoulders. The intensity of his gaze rooted her fleeing feet to the ground. “I’m telling you. I _need_ you to come with us.”

“Watch out, Herc. You might swell her head.”

But, Kirra never heard a word Iolaus said. “You need _me_?”

She wouldn’t have seen Iolaus rolling his eyes had he done it to her face. Hercules’s words had astonished her. This was her dream. In all the tales she collected and the silly songs she scribbled, she had always placed herself among them. She was the one who traveled with the son of Zeus. She was the one who helped him in all his labors. The people lauded her as the brave, mortal companion of Hercules who stared death in the face and dared it to take her down. In this little flicker of thought, Kirra understood the idea was a corny as the story of the princess and her rats, but she had clung to it over the years. It helped her continue with a life made miserable by her stepfather.

“I can’t stop Pervia without you,” Hercules told her. With those words, she knew the miserable life was behind her. Her dreams were now her future.

“Now, I don’t have to time to explain. I just need you to follow. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed with a whisper. And like that, she was back inside the palace heading toward the dungeon.

Kirra moved to lead the way into the dungeon where the cells and Breccias were held, but to her surprise, the boy in the ragged clothing took the lead and led them straight past the dungeon. When she protested, both Hercules and Iolaus shushed her.

“But Breccias…” she whispered, pointing.

Hercules took her arm once more. “Breccias is safe where he is for now. Come on.”

She didn’t understand. Hadn’t they come to rescue Breccias and his wife and child? It would seem not. Another mission existed that she was unaware of. What she couldn’t fathom was the part she had to play ... other than getting in the way and being a darn nuisance, that is. Kirra gave up and followed.

As they made their way silently past the dungeon and deeper into the palace, climbing mountainous stairways, sneaking past bored palace guards and disappearing into what she could only call secret passageways (hidden entrances behind framed paintings whereupon they exited from behind mantelpieces), Salmoneus tried to whisper an explanation of events to her. She couldn’t make out much of what he said. The few words she did pick up on were “King,” “Prince Pervia,” “Apollo,” and “voice of a goddess,” none of which made any sense in the same sentence.

“Salmoneus,” she chastised. “This is not the time to be cooking up your ‘million dinar idea.’” In response, Salmoneus slapped hands over his face and breathed an exasperated sigh.

Distracted and baffled with Salmoneus, Kirra didn’t see Iolaus come to a complete stop behind Hercules. If she’d been paying attention, she would have noticed the boy stop, as well, and indicate a silent warning to Hercules. She then might have seen him peer cautiously around a corner. With her head turned and her eyes on Salmoneus, however, she plowed right into Iolaus and knocked him forward. He in turn, bumped Hercules from his cautious stance. The boy was able to keep his feet, but it would seem even half-gods are capable of losing their balance.

Hercules stumbled forward, past the corner he had been so cautious to peer around, and into view of five soldiers guarding one of the many entrances into the heart of the palace. He’d followed dutifully behind Kìa as he led them through the underbelly of the palace to the one entrance that would lead them straight to the King’s bedroom. Once there, his plan was to take the guards by surprise through some diversion that would lead them away from the entrance. That wasn’t going to happen now.

Good thing he could improvise.

Hercules chanced a sideways glance of irritation at Iolaus, who looked at him as if to say _‘it wasn’t my fault.’_ Iolaus then turned the domino effect in the other direction and gave the same look to Kirra. Embarrassed, she childishly stuck her tongue at him.

“Hi, guys,” Hercules said, regaining his composure and smiling innocently at the gawking guards. “I seem to have gotten separated from my tour group. Perhaps, you could help me.”

“That’s Hercules!” one of the guards shouted, an accusatory finger pointed in his direction. “Get him!”

With a sigh, Hercules said, “Will they ever learn?”

The five guards rushed him at once, and as luck would have it, a tall candle stand stood within his reach. Just the right size, too, for handling five guys at once.

Iolaus wasn’t about to let Hercules have all the action. As soon as he heard the commotion, he grabbed Kìa by the shirt and pushed him toward Kirra, away from danger. She caught the boy in time for Iolaus to fly past Hercules. The three of them watched him meet one of the guards sword to sword without any thought to his own safety just as he had on the road in. She felt helpless and a bit useless in their midst as they fought two against five, but there was nothing she could do. She wasn’t adept with a sword … or a candle stand, for that matter.

Sword or no, Hercules made good use of his weapon on a guard thick enough to challenge him first. The base of it met the guy squarely in the face and Kirra’s scream echoed through the palace. Another one had the ridiculous idea that he could do better than the first, but Hercules proved him wrong by swinging the tapered end of the candle stand in his direction. He was down in seconds.

After having made short work of the first one, Iolaus watched another one slouch toward him. This one was much more cautious, his steps slow and sure. Iolaus wasn’t quite sure what difference it would make on the outcome, but he smiled with excitement at the prospect of bringing this guy down as quickly as the first.

“Come on! What are you waiting for? I haven’t got all day.”

The guard made his attack on cue and thrust his sword forward. Another scream from Kirra as she waited for the sword to meet its mark, but Iolaus easily parried it. As Hercules prepared to meet the last of the five, Iolaus spun a roundhouse kick to his attacker, knocking him back a couple of feet, but he came at him again. Iolaus readied himself for the final fight—

“Iolaus! Duck!”

Their relationship being what it was, Iolaus didn’t think or look to Hercules for direction. He simply reacted, and narrowly missed the candle stand making a solid connection with the back of his head. He stood aside as both his attacker and Hercules’s were brought down by his buddy’s interesting weapon of choice.

“Hey! I had him, Herc!”

Hercules threw the candle stand to the floor and shrugged an apology to Iolaus. “Sorry, Iolaus, but we’re in a hurry.” He gestured to the heavy wooden door ahead.

Hercules didn’t have to say a word. Iolaus trotted forward and opened the door, which groaned in protest. A quick peek and he disappeared beyond it to scout ahead.

As Iolaus checked the other side, Hercules ushered Salmoneus, Kìa and Kirra forward, but Kirra hesitated. Her eyes were on the five guards who lay sprawled on the floor around her.

“Come on, Kirra,” Hercules insisted.

Looking up at him with concern, she asked, “Are they all dead?”

Hercules remembered her reaction to the attack on the road in. The same look of shock had transformed her face. How different this must be for her. Witnessing this type of violence so soon after enduring and escaping from another had to be trying for her. Hercules wished he had time to reassure her that it would not always be this way, but he only had time for, “No. They’ll be fine.”

Iolaus reappeared from the other side unscathed.

“Anything?” Hercules asked.

Iolaus gave him two thumbs up. “Let’s go.”

At Iolaus’s insistence, they made it through the other side of the door without incident. Kìa once against led them through a series of interconnecting corridors. Painting and statuettes lined the walls, lit by sconces of flame. Here and there, a glass window let in natural sunlight, creating an eerie dappled appearance to the air, as if a fog of debris floated within the beam. They could see nothing beyond the orange light of the setting sun and thus they proceeded cautiously. Around each new turn and every corner was the possibility of another attack.

Eventually, Kìa led them beyond an open passageway to an expanded room that ran in a semicircle. Finely sculpted busts surrounded them, depicting the visages of men, many of whom sported long, flowing beards and whose faces expressed great wisdom and courage. Torchlight reflected from golden chalices and glittered off gold-edged pennants that hung from the ceiling. Every section of the stone walls were tiled in colorful faience. Kirra was awestruck, for she had never seen such beauty in all her life.

Opposite of the open passageway and at the center of the semi-circle was a closed set of immense wooden doors ornamented with brass moldings. Kìa pointed to it and gestured for them to follow. “This way. That is my father’s room.”

“Kìa, wait!” Hercules hollered.

From the moment they set food in this room, Hercules knew something wasn’t right. Only five guards to pass in order to get to the King’s bedroom? This smelled like a set up. Looking at Iolaus, Hercules could tell he was sensing the same thing. But it was too late to do anything about it now. As Kìa turned the ornate doorknob, sure enough, the sound of pounding footsteps behind them signaled the arrival of a small arsenal of soldiers, swords drawn and battle ready.

Kirra, with Salmoneus at her side, watched in fear as the soldiers encircled them, blocking off their only means of escape. She clutched at the salesman’s robes, but he was no comfort and could do little to still his own fears. He wore it as plainly as he would wear his happiness. Poor Salmoneus wasn’t very good at hiding it. Nor was she.

No weapon lay within easy reach for Hercules as it had before. He had only his partner at his back, a frightened salesman and a slip of a girl with no fighting experiences whatsoever. Two against five was one thing. Two against an army was quite another.

The soldiers, however, made no move to attack. They merely waited. For what, Hercules could only imagine, but he didn’t have to wait long. Movement emerging from the King’s room drew his eye and he turned in time to see Prince Pervia emerge with a dagger to Kìa’s throat.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Disclaimer: This is the last chapter where Kirra sings and I must make use of another's songwriting. As I mentioned in chapter two, I am no song writer. I am a storyteller. So, I've incorporated another of Enya's great songs. It's called Marble Halls and it fit so well with the story, I just had to use it. In searching for the name of the song writer, I've since learned this is not her original song. It's actually from a 1843 opera called The Bohemian Girl by Michael William Balfe with lyrics by Alfred Bunn. YouTube the title, but search for the Enya one. It's what inspired me. :)

“Well, it would seem _I_ have captured the great Hercules.”

He would have dared to take several feet forward, but the fear in Kìa’s eyes gave Hercules pause. He gestured to Iolaus to lower his sword as well. His friend complied with a reluctant grimace. Hercules couldn’t blame him. He was just as ready to fight and put an end to Pervia’s distorted rule. He hadn’t experienced a desire to knock the arrogance out of someone in a long time. For Kìa’s sake, he would proceed cautiously.

“That’s the way it would _seem_.”

Pervia laughed heartily. “That’s the way it is, Hercules. Look around you! You are surrounded. Are you blind?”

“No, I am not,” Hercules said. “I can see just fine how enjoy holding your brother at knifepoint.”

Pervia growled. It wasn’t exactly the knock Hercules had wanted to give this twisted version of a king, but it did the job. Revenge, however, always has its drawbacks. Pervia’s arrogant smile was gone, but the blade remained and he pressed it firmer into Kìa’s flesh.

“This one is a traitor. He is not my brother!”

“A traitor?” Iolaus cried, taking the steps forward that Hercules would not. “For trying to protect his King?”

Several drawn swords held him back, the points of their blades indenting his chest. Iolaus did not seem to feel it.

“ _I_ am King! What has he done to protect me? Nothing! He has done nothing but attempt to undermine my rule since it began. And now he’s brought Hercules here to assassinate me.”

_“Are you insane?”_

Had the voice been anything other, Hercules might have wondered who would ask such a potentially dangerous question of a man not playing with a full quill. This voice, though, was particularly female, and seeing as how she was the only one in the room…

Up until that moment, Kirra had been nothing but fearful and uncertain, clutching Salmoneus’s robes and praying this wasn’t her last few seconds on earth. Soldiers with sharp swords and even sharper expressions surrounded them. The Prince, as hideous as Penneus had described (and looking nothing like the handsome young Prince in the bedtime stories her mother used to tell her), held a jewel-encrusted dagger to the throat of the boy she had heretofore assumed was some gutter rat who had knowledge of the city’s underbelly. Boy, was she ever wrong.

Yet, all of that went to the wayside when Pervia laid his accusation against her favorite hero. She hadn’t realized her steps forward until Salmoneus grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back.

“Uh, Kirra…” Salmoneus so graciously said, his voice atremble. “If I were you, I would … uh … not speak.”

She didn’t listen. Indignance still burned in her heart. Pulling herself from the salesman’s grasp, she walked to Hercules’s side. “Hercules is no assassin, you imbecile!”

The prince’s jowls trembled, an angry red coloring them. He gestured threateningly with the dagger, removing it ever so briefly from Kìa’s throat. “You’d best hush your girlfriend, Hercules, unless you want her to suffer worse than you.”

“Your threats don’t frighten me,” she said, hands to her hips in defiance of this false king.

The soldiers with their swords and all those around her had disappeared. Hercules and Salmoneus had gone. Even Irritating Iolaus was gone from her sights. Kirra saw nothing but red, and within it floated her hatred for Hiram and those like him. In the few seconds before arms encircled her and pulled her back, she felt no fear.

Iolaus needed no order from Hercules to seize Kirra by the crook of the elbow and pull her away from Pervia. He could just as easily imagine the prince’s dagger burying itself into her heart as he could imagine it slicing Kìa’s throat. Yanking her to his side, Iolaus chastised the girl with his eyes.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he hissed. She tried to pull from his grasp, daggers of equal hazard in her eyes, but Iolaus held fast so that Hercules could work his magic. He had cooked up some way to get them out of this. He could see it in his friend’s confidence and in the firm stare he fixed on Pervia.

“How long, Pervia, do you think you can keep this a secret?” Hercules asked, making as if no interruption had occurred.

The prince’s eyes lidded, wondering what Hercules was playing at. “If you think you can use some ploy to save yourself and your friends, you are gravely mistaken, Hercules.”

Hercules smiled. “How long before they find out your little secret? Killing Kìa and the rest of will not keep it from coming out.”

“Keep talking, Hercules,” Pervia laughed. “Keep digging your grave.”

“Apollo knows, Pervia.”

The prince’s laughter dried up as quick as a splash of water in the hot sun. Behind them, the soldiers began to murmur. One said in a whisper loud enough to hear in the echoing confines of the King’s foyer, “What is he talking about?”

“Your so-called _King_ is the true traitor,” Hercules said to them without turning his back on Pervia. The soldiers turned curious glances to their comrades. Can what he said be believed? Hercules didn’t wait for them to turn the idea over in their minds. He continued. “How long, Pervia, before every man here knows _you_ poisoned the King?”

The curious glances turned into shuffling feet of uncertainty and their swords wavered. Pervia saw this and shouted, “Do not listen to _him_. Keep your positions! He’s a liar!”

The soldiers regained their footing, but not with the surety they once had. Hercules did not let up.

“And how long before they know King Aralias had already chosen his successor? And that before he could name Aristokìas publicly, you deceived Apollo into cursing the King to his deathbed.”

Kirra looked about at the soldiers, amazed at the ingenuity of her hero. When it seemed there was no way out, Hercules had found a way to addle the minds of the soldiers and make them doubt their commander. They were murmuring again, and their swords were not just wavering, some of them were even lowering. Her way was surely the wrong way. Pervia was losing his grip on the soldier’s loyalty.

But Hercules knew better. He may have gained the upper hand, but it would last for so long. The King was near death. Any time now and the soldiers would have no choice but to obey Pervia’s command, because he would be King.

Pervia’s smile was far from humble. “You think you’ve won, son of Zeus? You think you’ve solved Apollo’s riddle?”

“I’ll soon find out.”

With a haughty laugh, Pervia said, “I see you think this scrawny girl has the power of a _goddess_.”

Outraged at his audacity, Kirra strained against the hold on her arm and faced the Prince with fire in her eyes. “Scrawny! Who are you to call me scrawny, you disgusting fat toad?!”

The silence of the grave fell over the room. Not a sound could be heard—not a chinking of armor, a hitching of a breath or the clang of a sword—above the sound of the prince’s boiling anger. His skin burned such a deep red, Kirra imagined steam pouring from his ears or his hair catching fire as bright as the flame of torchlight ringing the circular walls. Beside her, Hercules held his breath, Iolaus winced, and Salmoneus hid his face behind a shaky hand.

Then, just as suddenly as the silence descended, a snicker from across the room broke it. One of Pervia’s soldiers was actually laughing, and once one started, the others joined in. Soon, the soldiers’ uncontrollable laughter filled the whole room.

Iolaus joined in, Salmoneus peeked out above his hand at the laughing soldiers, and Hercules blew out a sigh of relief. Prince Pervia, on the other hand, had begun to roast. Soon would come the steam and the flame hot enough to turn him to a smoldering pile of ashes. That would have been fortuitous. The prince would see to his own ruination and the land of Attilas would return to an honorable rule.

But that isn’t what happened.

Instead, the prince bellowed and shoved his stepbrother to the ground. The jewel-encrusted dagger he had held to Kìa’s throat now jabbed its way toward Kirra. Had it not been for the quick thinking of Iolaus, she would surely have taken one in the gullet. He pulled her back just in time, and once again, she found herself caught within his grip just as Hercules used the diversion to take control of the situation.

The arm jabbing the dagger towards Kirra he grabbed within his fierce grip. Pervia yelped and in an instant, Hercules had the prince holding the dagger against his own throat, clinching his fingers over Pervia’s to make sure he would not release the weapon. With his other hand, Hercules jerked the Prince’s arm behind his back.

“Well, Pervia, it would seem I’ve captured you.”

The laughter of the soldiers’ died. The tide had just turned against them.

“Iolaus, get Kirra to the King!”

Without a moment’s hesitation—and with a beaming smile—Iolaus ushered his three charges behind Hercules and toward the King’s bedroom. Salmoneus and Kìa did not have to be told twice, but Kirra faltered.

She twisted in Iolaus’s grip. “Wait! What did he mean by _goddess_?”

He didn’t answer, but instead turned her around and moved her toward the open door. She followed unwillingly, her sights drawn toward Hercules left to face the soldiers, holding the Prince before him as a shield; and her thoughts confused by the (albeit strange) conversation that just took place between them. Who would think her capable of a goddess’s power? She was Kirra from Endor, a small village of little repute. She was no one special. She had a reputation in the village of gabbing more than any girl of her station should, and a curiosity so insatiable it always seemed to get her into trouble … and her sewing skills were horrid. She was no one.

Behind her, Pervia shouted to the soldiers, “Why are you standing there? Defend me!” But before her, the beauty of the King’s bedroom closed the door on her fear and confusion. She did not see the soldiers waver between moving forward and defending the prince, or standing their ground against him. She saw the intricate weaving of the rugs on the floor and tapestries on the walls, the ornate footstools and chairs with gold-painted legs and gold-filigreed upholstery. They matched the fabric of the bed’s canopy and spread. In each corner of the room silver and gold beamed back at her, and a fire place roaring with a flame that was too warm for the season made them glimmer with far more majesty than they may have had in the cold light of day. For a moment, Kirra forgot everything around her.

It all came back at the sound of Pervia’s cry. “Defend me or I’ll execute all of you!” And that’s when Iolaus left her. Her safe haven became an exquisitely carved wooden pillar that stood center of the room. Kirra hugged it and peered beyond it to watch as Hercules drew quickly into the King’s bedroom, Iolaus and Salmoneus drawing to his side. The soldiers had chosen a side, it would seem, and were currently storming toward the door.

Iolaus and Salmoneus slammed the double doors closed just in time, but not even all of their weight placed firmly against them was enough to hold back the force of so many men. They crashed against them like waves on the seashore and doors moved inward. Kirra backed away, nearly falling over a footstool, until her back met the King’s ornate bedpost. The beauty of the room and its warmth of firelight became lost in the sight before her. Iolaus and Salmoneus were losing the fight.

“That right, men,” Pervia called. “Just keep pushing! You’ll be through in no time.”

This gave impetus to their cause. The doors began to open.

“Hercules!” Iolaus cried.

Hercules was ready to be rid of the greasy toad anyway. Tossing the prince away from him, Hercules threw a punch squarely to his jaw and he landed in a heap at Kirra’s feet. There was now little harm he could bring upon anyone else, but Hercules still handed her the jewel-encrusted end.

“In case he wakes up.”

That was doubtful, but she took it anyway at his insistence, and then he was off, running to the aid of Iolaus and Salmoneus who were struggling to keep their backs to the door and their feet the floor. Hercules pressed his palms against the double doors, pushing with all his might. When that didn’t work, he turned and used his back, using the force of his feet against the carpeted floor. The doors were closing! Kirra could hear the groans of the men on the other side as they fought against the strength of Hercules.

“Kìa!”

The boy had been at the bedside, but he jumped to attention when Hercules called.

“Get the lamp stand!”

Hercules motioned with a nod of his head to the wrought iron stand in the corner of the room. The candles upon it had not yet been lit. Kìa hefted it, candles toppling to the floor to the right of Kirra’s feet, and with the help of Iolaus, slid the long, slender lamp stand through the loops in the door handles. The doors momentarily braced, Hercules twisted the iron lamp stand in a knot around the door handles.

Kirra watched all of this from a distance, feeling like a spectator in a crowd. She could barely feel the dagger in her hand and the oaf at her feet didn’t seem real anymore. None of it did. This was just one of the Hercules stories she heard thousands of times before. The danger wasn’t real and it wasn’t happening to her. How could it? She was just Kirra from Endor. Wasn’t she?

“Is it going to hold?” Iolaus asked, sounding as far away to her ears as a character in a story.

“Not for long,” Hercules answered, as did the soldiers, for the door handles began to break loose from their braces.

“Great!” Iolaus and Hercules pushed back, throwing all their combined force into it.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, stinging as they slid into her eyes. Kirra’s fear was palpable as she watched the great Hercules struggle against the door to keep back the soldiers. She kept telling herself it wasn’t real. It was a story. The men would not break in and slaughtering them all. In every story she ever read, Hercules always won the day. He never gave in. He always found a way, as he had with the Hydra and the theft of the Golden Fleece.

“Kirra!”

Was he really calling her name? No, she was hearing things.

“Kirra, go to the King! Go now!”

“Hercules,” she said in a voice that sounded very small. He was calling her name. One so great as Hercules couldn’t possibly need her help. Could he?

She watched Hercules and Iolaus share a glance as she so often pictured in the stories she read and in the songs she penned. He had given Iolaus an order without need of words, and she knew he would follow it no matter the outcome. What she didn’t expect was for him to rush toward her. As if he’d leapt from the parchment of a scroll and became real, he took hold her and dragged her away from the bedpost. He led her around to the side of the bed and there she saw a frail old man for the first time. The boy she now knew as Kìa, sat beside him on the opposite side of the bed, holding gently the old man’s hand.

Hercules turned and placed his back against the door, straining to keep it closed. “Kirra, sing to him!”

His voice came to her out of a fog of unreality, but as it did, pieces of memory began to click together. She was real. She was here. This wasn’t a story and those men might just break in and slaughter them all. And Hercules was asking her to sing to the King. That was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard!

_“What?”_

“Just sing to him!” Iolaus shouted at her.

_“Why?”_

“Don’t ask stupid questions! Just do it!”

Shaky, sweaty hands pawed at her elbow and she turned to see Salmoneus at her side. She had never seen him quiet so terrified before. This was worse than the night he faced her stepfather. But as he did then, he braved his fear. In his eyes she read his shame for having let her down. He wouldn’t allow himself to do it again.

Taking her face in both of his shaky hands, he said softly, “Kirra, you’ve got to sing to the King.”

“Please, miss, help my father.”

She turned to see the boy looking desperately up at her. Beside him, his father’s breaths were shallowing. “Apollo cursed my father to never hear another beautiful melody.”

“He’s dying, Kirra,” Salmoneus added.

“But, how can _I_ help him?”

“Only the voice of a goddess can lift the curse.” Salmoneus smiled sweetly at her, his meaning clear.

“But … I don’t have—”

“Yes, you do. Don’t you remember what I told you?”

“Kirra,” came the strained voice of Hercules. “You have to believe in yourself. You can save the King’s life. _I_ believe in you.”

Kirra gave her head a fervent shake. “No, I cannot.”

“I believe in you,” Salmoneus said and his smile did not waver.

“Please help him,” Kìa pleaded. “I believe in you, too.”

Next to her Iolaus gave an impatient sigh. “I guess if everybody else is gonna say it … I believe in you, Kirra. So, sing to the man!”

But, it was Salmoneus who stared into her eyes, it was his face that held an expression of kind adoration. “You have the most beautiful singing voice I have ever heard. You _do_ have the voice of a goddess.I know you can do this.”

Releasing her, Salmoneus gently set her down on the bed beside the old man and placed his cold, lifeless hand in her own.

“But, I don’t know what to sing,” she said, looking up at the salesman.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her.

Iolaus could see Hercules was losing the battle. Sometimes even the man with the strength of a hundred men could tire out. “Look, this is sweet and all, but we don’t have time for this. Sing that song you sang last night!” he shouted to her as he ran to help Hercules.

“NO!” she shouted back to him. There was no way she was going to sing that song again, especially not in his presence.

“I don’t care what you sing, dammit, just sing something!”

Looking down at the old man, Kirra had no idea if she could do what they asked of her. The creaking and groaning of the doors, the shouting on the other side of it, the struggles of Hercules and Iolaus—they were too distracting. She couldn’t think. How could she sing a song that would convey the voice of a goddess in all this noise? Tears filled her eyes. What if she failed? What if the sound of her voice accomplished none of what they believed it could?

A memory came to her then, one of Hiram coming home after a night of imbibing too much ale. He would come home bellow her mother’s name, demanding a meal she didn’t have means to make because he had spent it all on his drinking. And she remembered the frightened little girl mother would hide in the closet to protect her. She would listen to the sound of her mother’s crying and of her stepfather’s rage. Covering her ears did little to block it out, so she would pray to the same gods that the village folk trusted and believed in. Those so-called gods never protected her, never came to rescue her. She learned to protect herself, and when the screaming got too loud, she would scurry behind her mother’s dresses, pressing her face within their folds that smelled deeply of her. Mentally, she would disappear. She would dwell within the stories mother told her. She would become the princess in the beautiful palace, winning the heart of the handsome young prince. On her wedding day, the air would be redolent with the scent of wildflowers, the sun would shine bright on the smiling face of the people, and she would sing. A happy song, it would be, a song to make her smile even as tears streamed down her cheeks.

 

_I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls_

_With vassals and serfs at my side,_

_And of all who assembled within those walls_

_That I was the hope and the pride._

Holding the King’s hand, the noise around her began to subside. Her mind withdrew to that place in her subconscious where all was peaceful and happy. Here, Hiram could never hurt her or put his hands on her. Here, mother smiled though times were hard and laughed to keep her daughter smiling, too. In this place, Kirra had always been calm, happy, warm and protected. And as she sang, the warmth within her flowed to the hand of the King, warming him from the fingers to the bone.

_I had riches all too great to count_

_And a high ancestral name._

_But I also dreamt which pleased me most_

_That you loved me still the same,_

_That you loved me,_

_You loved me still the same._

Kirra paused and hummed the chorus, holding tightly to the King’s hand, from which she felt the warmth ever growing. Slowly, but surely his fingers curled inward until he held her grasp within his own. Surprise nearly froze her. She could not believe what she was feeling, and though temptation willed her to open her eyes and see, she refused. If she truly was the one causing this reaction, she had best keep singing.

_I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,_

_That Knights upon bended knee_

_And with vows no maiden’s heart could withstand,_

_They pledged their faith to me._

_And I dreamt that one of that noble host_

_Came forth my hand to claim._

Unbeknownst to Kirra as she sang, the struggles on both sides of the double doors ceased. The soldiers had stopped to listen. Her voice, ethereally echoing inside the King’s bedroom, was the only sound to hear.

Winded from their struggle, Hercules and Iolaus looked on in astonishment. As Kirra sang with her eyes closed, color began to return to King Aralias’ face. His breathing improved and his eyes began to flutter and focus. They lit upon the young girl with unruly blonde curls whose lips uttered these soft words and from whose eyes tears slipped and fell upon his aged hands.

_But I also dreamt which charmed me most_

_That you loved me still the same._

_That you loved me_

_You loved me still the same._

_That you loved me_

_You loved me still the same._

 

Kirra’s song came to end, and when she opened her eyes, the King was staring at her with new life in his. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice but a croak from disuse.

She may have sang with words she had written on her heart long ago, but looking down at the King, Kirra could find nothing to say. She didn’t need to. Kìa reached over and gripped his father about the neck in a fierce hug.

“Father!” he cried.

Though weak, Aralias responded in kind and hugged his son as best he could. “My son,” he whispered.

Kirra, however, could only stare, her eyes unblinking. Aralias was no longer the frail, old man she had witnessed upon first entering the room. This man was younger, healthier, a man in his fifties. This cannot be the same man. Could she have done this? No! Impossible. Not her.

“You did it, Kirra,” she heard at her side.

It was Hercules, and his dumbfounded smile was a beautiful sight to see. Iolaus beside him looked nothing short of flabbergasted, and behind them the double doors stood wide open. The soldiers had streamed in, filling all the spaces of the King’s large bedroom. She saw nothing of the malice they wore only moments ago. They too watched her with their King in utter shock and disbelief. All but Pervia stared on. He lay crumbled on the floor at the foot of the King’s bed, out cold.

“You _really_ did it,” Iolaus said, a bit of doubt lacing his statement. “How in Tartarus…?”

A hand on her shoulder and Kirra looked up to see Salmoneus. “I knew you could do it.”

“I did it,” she said, not phrasing the words in the form of a question.

The King’s hand tightened about hers. “Thank you, my dear. Thank you.”

She _had_ done it. Kirra, the simple village girl from Endor, had saved the King’s life and the lives of the people of Attilas. No one back home would ever believe it!


	9. Chapter 9

Blue and gold banners flew high in the sky of Attilas the next morning. People filled the streets dressed in their finest, musicians played songs of merriment, children danced and hawkers pandered their wares to the passing throngs.

Never would Kirra have thought to see such happy faces. Only two days had passed since the people skulked about, fearful of questions and prying eyes. Now they happily milled about the streets, smiling and greeting one another with handshakes and embraces.

Looking down at the people from an oriel of immense height, with windows reaching lengths much longer than herself, Kirra now understood. Yesterday, they were mourning the loss of a very dear King. Today, they were celebrating his return. In Endor, there was no King and she could not remember anyone celebrating the return of the village leader, Tiras, before. It would appear King Aralias was much loved in this community.

A hand touched her elbow and she jumped. She hadn’t yet gotten used to the King’s guard in every corner of the palace. One of the very same men who had held a pointed sword at her and Salmoneus now urged her forward.

“This way, miss,” he said with a sheepish smile. “The King wishes to see you.”

Her heart began to beat a tad harder than it had a moment ago. “Of course,” she said and followed reluctantly. She had hoped Hercules would arrive before the King called for her. She didn’t want to go alone.

The guard led her down a long corridor and into a grand room with green-colored walls the rich and heavy color of spruce. Regal settees and chaise lounges carved of oak (and the gods knew what else) centered the room, but it was the figures beyond that drew Kirra’s eye. The King resting comfortably in a large, oaken chair and beside him Kìa, now dressed in princely robes instead of pauper’s clothes. She had been surprised to learn from Hercules that this boy would one day be the King of Attilas.

 _Boy,_ she laughed to herself. _He’s only a year or two younger than I._

Kìa was tending to his father’s every need from the balcony of the royal palace when the guard brought her forward, but it was he and not his father who saw her first. Kìa fairly beamed at the sight of her. He was before her in seconds, leaving his father to bask in the morning sun and the adoration of his people.

“It’s you,” he said, kneeling before her. “Thank the gods you came to us.”

Alarmed, Kirra bent and lifted him to his feet. “No, no. Don’t kneel to me. I am no one.”

He rose to his full height, but the awestruck expression she saw in him outside the dungeon door a day ago had not left his face. “You saved my father and with him you saved our great kingdom. You are far from ‘no one.’ You’re likeness will be highly esteemed here in Attilas.”

Kirra blushed. “Oh, I _highly_ doubt it.”

“I never got the chance to thank you, miss…”

“It’s Kirra.”

“Kirra…” He said it almost with reverence. “Thank you for saving my father’s life.”

“You’re welcome,” she said and there were tears in her eyes. “But it wasn’t just me. How is the King?”

“He’s doing well.”

“He looks peaceful.”

“He is. He’s still weak, of course, but he’s gaining his strength every day. Soon, he will be back to full health and able to take over management of the Kingdom again.”

“Oh? Who’s managing it now?”

“I am,” Kìa said with full confidence, but like a wineskin emptied upon the ground, he deflated a bit. “Well … with the help of the King’s advisors, of course.”

“I see,” she said, encouraging him with a smile. “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job.”

Kìa took her hand. “Come. My father wishes to speak with you. He has something of great importance he’d like to ask.”

“What’s that?” she asked, but Kìa would only smile.

She followed with more reluctance than she had with the guard. Kìa almost had to pull her forward. What could the King of such a grand kingdom wish to ask of her? The though filled her belly with butterflies and she thought of taking back her hand and running in the opposite direction, to anywhere other than sharing balcony space with a King.

With an overwhelming sensation of awe and reticence, Kirra let Kìa lead her forward until she could clutch the railing of the balcony. The King reached out a hand to her and when she took it, her hand white and clammy with a self-effacing fear, the crowds below erupted in cheers and applause. This could not be happening. She had only ever read about it in stories or sang of it in song. Never in her life had she expected to find herself standing upon a royal palace balcony next to a King. Least of all did she think she would be standing before so large a crowd of people who had come not only to see their King, but to see the girl who had saved his life.

According to Salmoneus, the story of the King’s recovery and the deception of his eldest son had spread like wildfire over night. Thanks, she believed, in no small part to Salmoneus himself. She had it on his good authority that _she_ was the talk of the town. The news made her nervous indeed.

“Kirra, my dear, how good of you to come,” the King said. He sat in his chair, wreathed in royal robes with a crown of jewels upon his grey head. Despite his splendor, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the crowds below.

Kìa patted the King’s shoulder. “Ask her, father.”

The King cast his son an amused look and turned back to her with hopeful eyes. Whatever it was he wanted to ask terrified her more than any dungeon ever could. The King opened his mouth, but before he could get one word out, a familiar and welcome voice came from behind them.

“King Aralias.”

 _Saved once again by Hercules_ , she thought and sighed.

He and Iolaus came from the shadows of the Great Room and into the sunlight of the King’s balcony. Following close behind was Breccias, holding little Callie gingerly in his arms and leading a beautiful brunette by the hand. Kirra had a good idea this was Adriana.

She joined the group gathering around the King, hoping for an opening near Hercules to squeeze into. She wanted his support if Aralias still chose to ask his question, but with Breccias to one side of him and Iolaus to the other, she settled on a place at the hunter’s side. For the first time, he actually turned a kind smile to her.

“Hercules,” King Aralias said, extending the same hand to the half-god. “I am so glad you and your friends have chosen to stay for the celebration.”

“We wouldn’t miss it.” With a slap on his buddy’s back, Hercules added, “Iolaus loves a good party.” Iolaus gave Hercules a sideways glance, but laughed anyway. “Actually, I came to thank you for releasing my friend and his wife. They were hoping to start a new life here in Attilas where they could raise a family in peace. I hope that they can still do that?”

“Absolutely, Hercules. Fear not. There is much damage I must have to repair, both to my city and to its reputation. I intend to start with the innocent people my son took advantage of.” King Aralias turned his attention to Breccias and his family. “If there is anything I can do to make your lives here as comfortable as possible, just say the word.”

At a loss for words, Breccias shrugged and shook his head. Hercules, however, had an idea both the King and Breccias would appreciate. “Breccias was looking for work to support his family before all of this happened. Perhaps there’s something you can offer him.”

The King nodded. “Yes, that’s a grand idea. What say you, young man?”

“Work is good,” Breccias said with excitement and some astonishment. “Thank you.”

The King shook his head. “Do not thank me. I did nothing.”

To Kirra’s surprise, King Aralias took her hand again into his own. “Your thanks should go to this young lady. Had it not been for her bravery, I would not be talking with you now.”

Kirra cheeks burned a bright red with all eyes turned toward her. She endured it as felicitously as she could, though the sudden attention discomfited her. She glanced at Hercules briefly, saw his proud smile and thought her heart would melt when he came to stand next to her.

“Yes, she is very brave,” he said, placing his arm around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the disbelieving grin of Iolaus. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She hadn’t been as brave as that.

“Well, not really,” she confessed for the sake of propriety … and Iolaus. “I was more scared than you think.”

“Doesn’t matter, my dear,” the King said, still holding her hand. “It is possible to be scared and brave at the same time. But, I think, your purity of heart and your beautiful voice may have had some effect, as well.”

_Purity of heart!_

If she thought she was feeling self-conscious before, this was worse! Her cheeks were on fire now. Beside her, Iolaus sniggered, but a swift kick with the heel of her boot silenced him. And thanks to Kìa, the King didn’t dwell on it, either.

“Father, you must ask her now.”

“Yes, you are right. Kirra, my dear, I have a proposition for you; one I hope you will consider.”

“Yes?” She knew her reply sounded as wary as she imagined it did, but there was nothing for it. She was terrified of what he would ask.

“Stay here in Attilas and reside with Aristokìas and myself in the palace.”

Kirra’s mind went blank. Had she heard what she thought she heard?

“It’s been some years since we’ve had a female presence in our lives,” the King continued. “You would be a welcome addition to our family ... as a daughter to me and a sister to Kìa. What do you say?”

Stay at the palace? Days ago, she had lived in an old house with her mother. The place had cracks in between the floorboards as well as the panels on the walls. If it wasn’t the cold air coming through in the winter, it was bugs in the summer. She hated it; and yet, she missed it. More importantly, she missed her mother. She felt it now more keenly than she had the last few days. Now, the King wanted her to come and live in his palace as a daughter to him and a sister to Prince Kìa. That meant she would become a Princess just like the girl in mother’s stories. But was it the right decision?

“Um...” It was all she could think to say. Kirra looked to Hercules, but he had no answer for her. “I don’t know. This is ... oh gods ... this is a really big decision.”

Yes, it was, and Hercules for one knew it was a decision Kirra would have to make on her own. Her chance for a good future here would be bright. She would receive the best education. She would never lack anything in the way of shelter, food or protection, for King Aralias seemed a kind man and his people loved him.

Yet, it didn’t stop him from disliking the idea. With some bewilderment, Hercules realized he didn’t want Kirra to stay. His plan when they walked into Attilas, had been to leave her in the hands of a capable and reliable guardian. King Aralias was certainly that, but now he couldn’t imagine leaving here without her. He had to be sure this is what she wanted.

“King Aralias, before Kirra gives you an answer, I’d like to ask you a question.”

“Of course, Hercules. What is it?”

“Your son, Pervia. I know that at the moment you have him confined to his bedchamber. Is his punishment to be any more severe than that? Shouldn’t he spend some time in the dungeon he put innocent people in? People like Kirra.”

“I understand you concern, Hercules, but Pervia is my son. And a Prince, at that. He will pay for what he has done, but it will be in a way _I_ see fit.”

Where his friend didn’t say anything, Iolaus couldn’t hold back. “You’re not even gonna lock him up?”

“He is safe from bringing harm to anyone else. Neither of you need worry about that. Kirra will be perfectly safe here. I assure you.”

“I see,” Hercules said, but it was clear in his tone that he did not see. “Well, you are the King. I’ll not question you further.” Iolaus was looking at him as if he had just lost his mind, but Hercules ignored him. This just might work to his advantage. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to talk with Kirra before she decides.”

“Naturally,” the King said with a smile. Turning his eyes to Kirra, he said generously, “Take all the time you need, dear.”

They left the sunlight and walked into the shadows of the King’s Great Room. There, Hercules led them outside the room where they said a final farewell to Breccias and his family under the careful scrutiny of the Kings of old. There were handshakes and hugs all around, and Kirra kissed little Callie goodbye. It saddened her to see the child disappear with his parents, but as they disappeared through a doorway, a trio of the King’s guards flanking them, Kirra knew she had other things to fret over.

When she turned to face Hercules and Iolaus, their faces were masks to their emotions.

“Well,” Hercules began. “That was some offer.”

“Yeah, imagine that,” Iolaus added, chuckling. “Princess Kirra. Has a nice ring to it, huh?”

Kirra bit her lip, not sure how to answer. She hadn’t decided if she liked the sound of the ring.

With a soft smile, Hercules said, “You know, Kirra, I’ve often believed that, no matter what anyone says, we make our own fate in this world. No one chooses our destiny for us. But, somehow, in your case I don’t know if that’s true. I think there was a reason I met you in Endor. And I think there was a reason why you came with us to Attilas. It couldn’t have been just coincidence or dumb luck that you were the one to lift the curse.”

Kirra was not completely sure where he was going with this, though his words inspired her and filled her with confidence. But, she was also dismayed. “So ... you think I’m supposed to stay here?”

Iolaus watched his friend’s expression and knew that’s not what Hercules had in mind. Though, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Hercules was trying to talk her out of it.

“I think what Hercules is trying to say is your destiny truly is what you make it. You just need to decide what that is. Is it here in Attilas? Or is it back home with your mother?”

“Or is it somewhere else?” Hercules asked and Iolaus stared bewildered at him. “Whether it was The Fates, whether it was coincidence ... I don’t really know. What I do know, Kirra, is that your life holds more purpose than living a simple village life.”

“But, what does that mean?” she asked. Kirra was more confused about her choice than ever.

Hercules sighed. “I wish I could tell you. Iolaus is right, though. You’ve got to find that out for yourself. King Aralias is offering you the chance to start over with a new family.”

“Yeah, who knows, maybe it’s your destiny to marry Prince Pervia.” Iolaus chuckled at his wittiness, but the glares he received killed his laughter as surely as an arrow through the heart. He cleared he throat and said, “You’re right. Not a good idea. But, hey, what about Kìa? Sure he’s a little young, but in time ... I’ll shut up.”

“Thank you,” they said in unison.

At first, Kirra’s face was stern, both from annoyance with Iolaus and nervousness at her decision, but she laughed when she and Hercules spoke simultaneously. And she laughed at Iolaus, as well. His reaction at being chastised by his friend had caught her funny bone. Despite her situation, the laughter felt good.

Hercules continued after a beat. “I think what I might be trying to say is ... King Aralias may be offering you a new family to start over with, but no matter your decision I will always be here for you whenever you need me. My family is your family.”

“What?” Iolaus said. Was Hercules telling her what he thought Hercules was telling her? He received no answer, however, for Hercules paid attention only to Kirra’s two tear-filled eyes.

Hercules squeezed her hands. “You have a big decision to make. I’m sure the King is waiting to hear from you.”

Her whole body shook. She wished she could say it was Hercules’s touch, but she knew better. It was fear, plain and simple.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Hercules. I am forever in your debt.”

“Make the decision that’s right for you, Kirra, and I’ll consider the debt paid.”

As she let go of Hercules’s hand and reluctantly turned from the two of them, she had no idea what she would tell the King. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was being handed to her no strings attached. She could become a Princess and live out her days rich and well fed, and maybe someday meet the handsome young Prince the bedtime story told of. And even if that was a bit farfetched, she could perhaps hold sway over the King to eventually get her mother here where she could take care of her. Anything was possible.

Then, her thoughts went to what Hercules told her: _My family is your family._ There was only one thing he could have meant by that—that if she wanted, she could come with him. Could that be what she understood him to mean? Or was she wrong? And if she was wrong, would she being making a terrible mistake in refusing the King?

Wringing her hands, Kirra went back to the King’s balcony.

 

* * *

 

Hercules watched Kirra disappear into the Great Room and beyond, but that’s as far as his vision could see. The guards had closed the doors. Many people had the false idea that he had a sixth or even seventh sense—that he could see through walls or read minds or divine the future. None were true. He was just as clueless to the future as they were. But if there was one instance in which he wished he could do any of the three, it would be now, and not just because of Kirra. He had to give her the opportunity to choose. The other reason would be Iolaus.

Hercules stifled a laugh. Iolaus’s hands were firmly on his hips and a puzzled look distorted his face. He patted Iolaus on the shoulder and began to walk away. “Come on, buddy. Let’s join the festivities.”

Iolaus was not so eager to follow. “Uh, Hercules...”

“Yeah,” said Hercules curiously and turned back to his friend.

“Clarify something for me.”

“Sure.”

“Did you just tell Kirra that ... if she wanted to ... she could come _with us_?”

Hercules knew his friend was not stupid, by any means. He had a feeling he would understand. Whether Kirra understood was another question. “I might have hinted at something like that, yes.”

Iolaus dropped his hands and closed the gap between him and Hercules. Though puzzled, there was the hint of smile on his face. “Okay, I’m confused, Herc. Why would you do that?”

“I told you on the road in, Iolaus, that if I didn’t feel Attilas was a safe place for her, I would have to think of something else.”

“ _This_ is the something else you thought of?” Iolaus scoffed.

There was no telling what Kirra’s decision would be. Iolaus had a good impression from Kirra even she didn’t know how to answer. But, the question lingered—what had Hercules actually meant when he told her that his family was her family? Besides Alcmene and Jason, _he_ was the only other one considered a part of the family. He and Hercules, though they never spent every waking moment together, were like brothers. Was Kirra supposed become his ... _sister?_

Hercules could only smile at his friend. Iolaus and Kirra did not exactly get along. He understood Iolaus’ hesitation, but what his friend tended to forget was _he_ knew exactly what he was doing.

“I know of a better place for her. The safest place I know.”

“And that is?”

Without another word, Hercules gave Iolaus another pat on the shoulder and walked down the open passageway.

For a moment, Iolaus stood his ground. He let the understanding of Hercules’s words sink in, and smiled when the idea was complete in his mind. It was the best one for Kirra. “Ah, I see,” Iolaus said. Following Hercules with his eyes, Iolaus could see his friend had fast left him behind. Iolaus ran to catch up. “Well, I guess that’s better than the Pervia idea.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Hercules and Iolaus shared a laugh at the joke, remembering the look on Kirra’s face when he had made the suggestion.

“Can I ask you one more question?” Iolaus asked.

“Sure, buddy. Shoot.”

“And be honest with me,” Iolaus said, as if his friend could be anything but. “Do you have feelings for Kirra?”

This time is was Hercules who stood his ground. He turned an incredulous face to his friend. “ _No_ , Iolaus.” Then, he paused in thought. “Well, yes, I have feelings for her, but not in _that way_. I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Sorry, Herc. Just had to make sure.” Iolaus’s smile revealed his mischievousness.

Too concerned with defending himself, Hercules did not notice. He continued down the winding passageway as he talked. “I care about what happens to her. That’s the extent of it. And I honestly do not believe staying in Attilas is the best idea for Kirra.”

“Well, that’s good, because I was worried.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know ... jailbait and all that.” Iolaus couldn’t hold back the snicker of laughter with his last words. After that it came out in gales until Hercules punched him on the arm. “Ow!”

“That never entered my mind, Iolaus,” Hercules told him seriously even though his lips were curling into a smile. “Not once.”

Iolaus rubbed at his sore arm, but he couldn’t drop it. The joke had become too much fun. “Sure it hasn’t. We both know she’s a beautiful girl.”

 _That’s just fine_ , Hercules thought. _Two can play at that game._

“Well, you would know,” Hercules said, turning to face Iolaus with a sly smile. “ _You_ were the one spying on her when she was trying to take a bath.”

“ _I was not spying on her!”_ All joking aside, that accusation was getting old. If Iolaus had to hear it one more time, he would hurt somebody. “Hercules, I told you it was an accident. And if truth be told, I saw nothing!”

“Really?” Hercules asked, rubbing it in.

“Well, you know ... except for her back...”

Iolaus took the question almost as a demand for a confession, and when Hercules turned in response to his comment, he felt compelled to continue.

“...and maybe an inch or two of her waist...”

Then memory took over and he made the most damning confession of all.

“...and the outline of her...”

He caught the open-mouthed look of shock on his friend’s face and quickly picked up the pace. “Nevermind,” he added behind him, leaving a disconcerted Hercules behind.

 

* * *

 

Kirra left the confines of the palace happy to be among regular people again. They came to greet her with heavy pats on the back and bone crushing hugs. It was nice to have so many want to shake her hand, and better to hear their many words of thanks.

One woman in particular stood out in her mind. She had come to Kirra with tears, giving her the fiercest of hugs. The woman had thanked her profusely, and when Kirra inquired as to why, the woman replied that one of her daughters had been cruelly mistreated by the King’s son and had taken her own life. Kirra had felt such pity for the woman she made sure the King knew of her name and of her plight. Yet, even as she left the woman behind in the care of the King’s men, it got her to thinking about her own life and the many decisions she had made in the last few days.

Until now, she had never spent more than an hour or two away from her mother. Kirra missed her desperately, though she knew returning home would be a mistake. The poor woman who lost her daughter would never get the chance to see her again. And now, Kirra began to wonder the same about her mother ... for she had turned the King down. As well, she turned down the opportunity to secure for her mother and herself a possible better future. King Aralias, and Kìa especially, had been disappointed at her rejection of his proposal. She hated seeing Kìa’s happy face drop, but at the same time, she had been relieved. She didn’t think she could live cooped up in that stuffy palace, as beautiful as it was. And she didn’t think her mother could have, either.

For now, keeping mother in her heart and in her prayers would have to do ... as would hoping she had understood Hercules as well as she thought she had.

“Kirra!”

And it wouldn’t be long before she found out. There across the sea of people stood Hercules, beckoning her toward him. She didn’t hesitate to move through the throngs to get to his side.

As she approached, Hercules watched her expression for any sign of the decision she had made. He hoped that her smile was the answer he hoped for. He sat down at one of the few empty tables set up for the celebration. He didn’t want to appear as if he were on edge about her answer.

“So, I guess you talked with the King?” But he couldn’t keep the question out of his comment, could he?

“I did,” she said, revealing nothing.

“And?” Hercules asked with a nervous smile.

“Well, I told him thank you for his offer. That it was very generous and kind ... and...” Kirra dragged it out purposely, hoping she could see by his response that he did want her to come with him. The look in his eyes was all she needed. “I told him thank you, but I already have a family.” Of course, the beaming smile on his face was good, too.

“That you do,” he said, rising from his seat, promptly snatching her from the ground and into a bear hug.

He nearly squeezed the life out of her, but Kirra didn’t mind it. It was like flying, like the memory of spinning in her father’s arms.

When Kirra’s feet finally met the ground again, Iolaus and Salmoneus were there. She expected such expressions of warmth and kindness from Salmoneus, but on Iolaus, it came as a shock. For a girl who went from having only her mother for a friend, to unexpectedly finding herself surrounded by friends, it came as quite a surprise. Once again, her cheeks were burning.

Iolaus, who was absentmindedly rubbing his arm, asked her, “So, no more Princess Kirra, huh?”

Kirra shook her head with a shy smile. “No, I decided against it.”

“Aw, no,” he said with loads of sarcasm. “And I was so looking forward to being able to call you that.”

Iolaus laughed, but this time Kirra had to laugh with him. His laughter was far too contagious for anyone to resist. _Perhaps,_ she thought, _I’m finally beginning to understand his sort of humor._ His laughter was cut short by Hercules, however, who grabbed the arm he had been favoring since she returned. Iolaus winced in pain.

“What happened to your arm, Iolaus?” she asked.

Iolaus sighed and derided his friend with his eyes, but he didn’t answer. Hercules did.

“Someone needed a good swift punch in the arm a little while ago.” Hercules said it with an evil grin, slapping three times at Iolaus’s arm with the words ‘good swift punch’.

“What did you do to deserve that?”

“I opened my big mouth.” He grimaced, continuing to rub at his arm. Cynically, he added, “Welcome to the family, Kirra.” With that, he took off, heading for the archway that overhung the city’s entrance.

Kirra did her best to contain herself. Everything was happening so quickly, she didn’t know what to expect next. Then, she heard Hercules say, “Salmoneus, it was good to see you again, my friend.”

Salmoneus extended his hand and the two shook. “You, too, Hercules.”

“I’m sure Iolaus feels the same way.” They both laughed at the joke, but Kirra had stopped laughing.

“Salmoneus, you’re not coming?”

Kirra had no reason to believe Salmoneus would not be going with them. At their first meeting, she recalled not trusting him when he told her he and Hercules were friends. Somewhere along the way, all the stories she had read and loved became confused with the reality she now knew. Salmoneus was not the one who traveled side by side with Hercules and shared his adventures. That was Iolaus. Salmoneus had no reason to continue on their journey with them, and it saddened her greatly.

“Iolaus and I will wait for you on the road, Kirra,” Hercules said before leaving. She barely acknowledged him, save for a quick nod and a touch of her hand.

Though he smiled, Salmoneus’s sorrow was quite evident. “I am going to miss you.” He realized he was showing way too much emotion, so he concealed it quickly with a big smile. “I know, you and I had big plans, but we’re going to have to put those on hold for while. I’ve found a sweet deal here in Attilas. Did Hercules tell you?”

“No,” she said sadly.

“Remember the toga shop? Well, Hercules was just pulling my leg, but, here’s the thing. This is the most remarkable clothing shop I have ever walked into! And get this—the owner is looking to franchise.”

“Franchise?”

“Yes!” he said excitedly. “If I can open up a chain of these shops throughout the surrounding cities, I’ll be making forty percent of the prophets. Is that a sweet deal or is that a sweet deal?”

Salmoneus was looking at her as if he wanted some kind of approval. Sadly, he was talking in terms she didn’t quite understand. Besides, all she knew was that she didn’t want to be parted from him so soon after getting to know him.

“I know nothing of that. I just want you to come with us.”

Her sadness killed his excitement. Gone was the big smile. In its place was sorrow once again. “I’m a traveling salesman, Kirra. I run into Hercules now and again, and maybe help him out. But, I’m not an adventurer. I’m not a hero.”

“You’re my hero,” she said, watching his priceless expressions. He was touched and saddened at the same time. “You stood up against Hiram when no one else would. You tried to protect me.”

Salmoneus lowered his head. His memory of it was not as inspiring as she remembered. “ _Tried_ being the operative word. I failed.”

“No you didn’t. You stood up to him bravely. Even measly little old Tiras couldn’t do that. It might have gone unnoticed to everyone else, but I was thankful you were there for me that night.”

His small smile of gratitude was marred only by the whispered emotion in his voice. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come?” she asked.

He shrugged an apology. “The dinars are calling.”

She smiled through her tears at him and did something she didn’t expect of herself. She tenderly kissed his bearded cheek, wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. “I’ll miss you, too, Salmoneus. Please, don’t forget me.”

“Oh, I don’t think I could do that.” Breaking from their embrace, Salmoneus placed a gentle hand on her cheek. “Travel safely, my dear.”

“Goodbye, Salmoneus.”

Taking his hand, she gave it one quick squeeze before she walked away. She turned back once to see him wave goodbye and then he was gone. She would miss him terribly, but she’d likely see him again one day. She didn’t have the same opportunity to say goodbye to her mother. Not really. Her leaving was all too quick, and the possibility of seeing her again was uncertain. She was glad to have gotten the chance to say goodbye to Salmoneus.

But that didn’t mean Hercules and Iolaus would be patient. She didn’t see them at the archway or on the road ahead. Kirra feared her overlong goodbye may have caused them to leave without her.

Heart racing, Kirra grabbed a wad of her skirts with both hands and ran harder and faster than she ever had before. With each passing second that she didn’t catch them in her sights, she worried this had been some horrible joke. Surely, they had taken a side road or cut through the woods in order divert or outdistance her. When she rounded the bend and saw them walking leisurely along the path, her stomach had already turned enough flips inside of her to make her sick. She thanked the gods they hadn’t noticed her yet and quickly stumbled into the brush to lose her breakfast.

An odd sound behind them caught the attention of Hercules and Iolaus. It was only yesterday morning that they were attacked on this very road. Stumbling from the bushes, however, was not a sword-wielding soldier. It was Kirra, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Now that they knew what it was, the odd sound was not quite so odd anymore.

Kirra slowly made her way toward them, one hand over her mouth and one hand over her abdomen. Iolaus wanted to laugh until he remembered his sore arm and thought better of it.

“Well, it’s about time,” he said. “We were beginning to wonder if you had changed your mind.”

“Are you all right?” Hercules asked her with concern.

“I just lost my breakfast,” came her muffled reply.

Hercules laughed. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, at least until lunch time,” Iolaus said with a wicked grin.

Kirra ignored him. She had more pressing things on her mind. “So, where are we going?”

Hercules was thoughtful. “To a place where I believe you’ll be very happy.”

“And where’s that?”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out when we get there, won’t you?”

She swatted his arm. “Hercules, you must tell me. Iolaus, make him tell me. If you don’t I’ll lose my lunch, too.”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Kirra still had no idea where Hercules was taking her. They were mere minutes away, but in the distance she could make out a small bridge and beyond it a quaint house surrounded by trees and beautiful flowers. Her head was full of fretful thoughts. Who lived there? What were they like? How hard would she have to work to earn her keep? Not that she was afraid of hard work. She was used to it living on meager means. But constant work would keep her from seeing her mother.

The trip from Attilas to here hadn’t been easy. Each step she took drew her farther and farther away from mother. She had tried to keep her mood light, but there were times when she found herself crying for no reason. Her decision to continue with Hercules had wrenched her away from everything she had ever known. She couldn’t go back, though. Hercules didn’t understand and it would be a long time before she would feel comfortable enough to tell him everything that had happened.

Now, crossing the wooden bridge over a running brook and onto lush grass, Kirra felt the dreaded weight of leaving the past behind lift away. How could it not? Ahead, an excellent garden of various vegetables filled one corner of the yard. A small vineyard of purple grapes occupied another, and fruit trees grew in rows round about. The color and beauty, the very air here lifted her spirits. And it would seem it did the same for Hercules and Iolaus. She could hear their excitement as they spoke. The wild beating of her heart soon drowned it out for Hercules had knocked on the door.

A second or two passed and the door opened, revealing a woman in a softly flowing purple dress and ringlets of curls cascading about her face. She couldn’t have been much older than her mother, yet Kirra couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. She wore her age well. Hard work, little money, and a heavy fist had not aged her before her time. Her hands were supple and smooth, and her eyes lit with a blue as bright as the sky. But who was she?

“Hercules!” the woman said, her smile as bright as her eyes.

Hercules laid a hand on Kirra’s shoulder and the woman shifted her gaze.

“Mother, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

 


End file.
